


Let Us Burn

by Kissa



Category: Actor RPF, Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, One Night Stand
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 07:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kissa/pseuds/Kissa
Summary: After a particularly agreeable one night stand, Chris is called back to reason by his watchful PR. Are people that universally untrustworthy? They will soon find out.





	1. Last Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is another fic that began writing itself in my head while I was out shopping. Let's see where it goes, shall we?

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation again… after how many years?” The exasperated PR rep paced Chris’ kitchen up and down while Chris himself sat at the table, looking like a cat after eating a whole batch of canaries.

“I didn’t wanna be that creepy.” Chris said, looking down at his hands.

“I told you so many times, and you seemed to get it until now. No NDA, the dick stays in. It’s like herding cats with you, I swear.”  
  
“She won’t rat me out to the press.” Chris replied, sighing.  
  
“Oh so suddenly we are trusting strangers with smartphones just because they had a good ass and a fast mouth?”

“She did make a few valid points, the most important one of them being that she messed up sleeping with me. If she had known I’m an actor she would have passed.”  
  
“Yeah yeah that’s what they all say.”  
  
“Wait, let me finish. She really did worry that the press would find out I fucked her and then she’d be the one painted like an expendable one night fun item by the press. And the fans would slut shame her and be nasty.  She has a lot more to lose than I do.”  
  
“Well, she’s not wrong. But then what will you do if she does rat you out to the press? What if she took photos of you while sleeping?”  
  
“We didn’t sleep.” Chris said, grinning.  
  
His PR rep gasped and blushed. She may have been a married woman, but she knew what that meant. And she knew her client well by now. Entertaining female company the entire night and spending the morning together too? This wasn’t a one night stand anymore.  
  
“She did say I give excellent D,” Chris added. “So if she squeals, no more of that for her. Plus, relax, she’s from around here. She lives in Concord too. Not far from here. Really, it was a fantastic hook-up, albeit unlikely, and I got to know a sexy neighbour. No need to call in the big guns and scare her off with legal shit. I actually like this one.”

“Oh please, didn’t you say you wouldn’t be caught dead with a normie, because they are way too easily impressed by fame and access?”  
  
“I did say that. But, like recent events have shown me, famous ladies aren’t that trustworthy either.”  
  
“Try not to catch feelings, Chris. This could get messy.”  
  
“Understood… _mother_ .”  
  
“Fuck you. And don’t start sounding like Steppenwolf.”

Chris actually gasped.  
  
“A reference from the competing cinematic universe? How dare you?”  
  
“You started.”  
  
“Let’s hit my Ma’s place. She’s grilling some stuff, it’s gonna be fun. I can get us beers on the way.”  
  
“I appreciate the invitation, Chris, but I have to go. I need to be home so I can put the baby to bed on time.”  
  
Chris still showed his PR rep out and to her car, before locking up and driving to his mom’s like he had said.

While he sat with his family and laughed, he couldn’t help but refresh TMZ and a few other choice websites several times. Part of him knew that Megan was right, women couldn’t help themselves and if they didn’t post it at Instagram, then they wanted a quick buck off the tabloids and if that also didn’t happen, then they told a friend who would run to the mags or online.  
  
His thumb also hovered over her Whatsapp handle. He wanted to text her and talk. She had been wonderful and he still felt her hands on his skin. He remembered how she had dozed off for a bit in the morning, well after sunrise, and how he had inspected her apartment in Boston, trying to guess who she was, based on her home.

At the same time, there was a certain weariness gnawing at him from inside. He did want more, better, and different, but what he wanted simply wasn’t available for him.

Megan’s advice was sound. He dreaded catching feelings. Whenever he did, pain was the one feeling that ended up staying the longest, well after everything else had evaporated.


	2. Some Mistakes Were Made

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris' angle on what happened on that night with Vanessa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I don't know Chris Evans, but I love the image made up of all the bits and pieces he let us see along the years. I think he's a good and generous man who has learned to be cautious after years in Hollywood, but this is in no way meant to badmouth his real person. This is something my imagination came up with and has nothing in common with the real Chris, to the best of my knowledge. 
> 
> Many say I should move on from my fixation on Chris fics and do Avengers fics instead... But let's be real. At the end of this month, Infinity War comes out and the MCU will be the most challenging place to be in as a fan. I'm not looking to immerse myself in that, I'm looking for a place to escape to... and the boring reality, where some bed hair pics are the worst that can happen, looks like a pretty good bet right now.

**Chris**

  
I’m sitting at my table and Megan is talking animatedly about the image disaster I walked myself into… for some reason, her logic doesn’t get to me this time.   
  
I know I fucked up and broke the rules. But the rules are sad. They leave me unable to form a genuine connection with women and sometimes, I come across interesting girls who deserve a closer look, but any chance of me doing that is killed by the whole celebrity thing… there’s nothing more humiliating and alienating than springing an NDA on a woman mid-foreplay. Or worse, after you’ve slept with her.

But I have trouble concentrating as it is. My mind keeps going back to that night.  
  
It started in the club. Gino, my buddy who greenlights the girls for me, brought me there and simply told me ‘happy hunting!’. It was dark and I was already on my third beer, a time when my courage kicks in.   
  
I sat in my corner and sucked on my bottle, scanning the crowd.   
  
I saw her, dancing in a group of friends who were all coupled up. She was the only one there without a man grinding on her, but that didn’t hold her back at all. I watched her dance like her life depended on it, the blue and pink lights of the club painting her skin in surreal hues. She wore a loose t-shirt and skinny jeans, clearly someone who appreciated comfort over looks. After all, it’s a bitch to always have to adjust a bra or a thong while shaking your ass.   
  
So I went and greeted her.   
  
“Hi, I’m Chris,” I said. “Wanna dance?”   
  
“Vanessa,” she gave back, giving me the once over and deciding I’ll do. “Do keep up.“

I pressed myself against her ass and swayed along with her serpentine motions, letting my hands roam her arms, boobs and abs. For a white girl, she could really move. 

We didn’t talk much, but we touched a lot. Well. I kept running my hands all over her.   
  
I tried to see us from her perspective. She had accepted me very easily, considering the corrupt cop mustache I’m sporting. My own sisters told me I look rapey as fuck with it, something that is made worse, much worse, by my wearing a cap indoors, and lowered to hide my eyes.

At some point she got thirsty and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I said yes, and instead of letting me show her to my couch and getting us drinks, she pulled me to the bar and ordered us Long Island Ice Teas.

She then took out a box of Tic Tacs that contained some funny looking pills and I recognised them for what they were. I know I should have known better and kept well away but… I’m a 36 year old man picking up women in clubs to spend the night with while all my friends from work and from back home are married and laugh at me on every occasion. In those moments, I felt really vulnerable to those emotions and let them cut deep. I took the pills and thought, “fuck y’all. Laugh at me for being a loser all you want, I’ll be the best loser you’ve ever seen!”.

I let the ecstasy flood my bloodstream and wreak its merry havoc on me. Vanessa and I returned to the dancefloor and continued grinding on each other until I needed some air and pulled her towards the back exit.   
  
In the alleyway behind the club, she took my hand and giggled. Under the pale moonlight, she seemed even more alluring than in the club, and I no longer resisted. I leaned in and kissed her, tasting the lime and the sweetness of her drink on her lips. They were warm, big and soft, a fantasy really, and with the drugs rushing through me, everything was amplified tenfold.

I melted into her, pinning her to the wall and letting my front rest flush against her. It was maddening. Her scent, the taste of her lips, the way her hips were still grinding against mine… I felt timeless, beautiful and immortal in those moments.   
  
I can’t really remember how I got to her place, but considering I had come to the club via subway and she did not drive there either, I assume we took the subway to there as well.

At her place, the clothes came off and I only remembered to fish the condoms out of my wallet out of habit, because my mind could not be bothered at that time.  
  
Usually it goes like this: I introduce myself to a girl, she gets all flustered, we flirt, we get naked, and she lets me do most of the work, change positions and talk dirty to her. In the morning I leave, taking the knotted closed condoms in my pocket and the signed NDA on my phone. Yes, I know it is sordid, but this has saved me from those lovely creatures who want to saddle actors and musicians with kids they didn’t plan. And it wasn’t even my idea - my team perfected this approach for my protection. If it was after me, I’d have a girlfriend at home and be faithful to her when I’m away. But I found out that’s not on offer for me. Maybe that will change soon.  

Vanessa gave as good as she got. She was calling the shots and seemed to give no fucks about my dick’s demands. I don’t think I’ve ever been bossed around this much by a woman - in bed or elsewhere. But she seemed determined to come several times, at my hand and ehm, other parts.   
  
Her body was like something out of my hottest fantasies and her skin radiated warmth. She had worn a glitter lotion that made her skin sparkle under the moonlight and, instead of the standard bald or trimmed patch, she sported a vajazzle. I haven’t seen one of those in American ladies, and well, I couldn’t care less about them, but I loved what this told me about her. I like a woman who loves her pussy so much she buys it jewels.

Also, where is this secluded town where all the women who love sucking dick live, that Vanessa is obviously the mayor of? I usually don’t ask or give that much oral on one night stands because it just makes things more awkward by bringing us closer than necessary…I know it makes no sense but it’s worked out pretty well so far. However, this time Vanessa wanted it like she was getting something out of it too and man… It’s not every day you meet someone who makes you feel like a noob at sex.

Towards the morning, I was looking forward to some sleep, not caring that we were both sticky, sweat and come cooling between us. I had come five times over seven hours, which was normal for teenage me, but quite the workout for current me. Usually I just get the girl off and walk away with the reputation points.   
  
“Look, Vanessa, babe… maybe we should get clean and get some rest.” I pleaded, although I wasn’t really complaining. This had been the best night in a long time and I dreaded slapping the NDA on her all the more.   
  
Her response to my request was to take me to her super modern bathroom and eat my ass under the shower mist. Slowly and methodically, she drew another orgasm from me and eased me down to the floor when my knees turned to water. There was come every fucking where and I was afraid my well had dried for a very very long time. But parts of me I normally didn’t feel at all were now thrumming with pleasure and I saw green and blue little stars in front of my eyes.   
  
She made us coffee, because it was too late to go to bed and I did say I had to be places.

After I finished my cup, I dressed and called up the form on my phone, giving her the touch pen to sign it.   
  
She read it attentively and I saw her physically change before my eyes, bristling up and looking like she was about to explode.   
  
“You bitch ass motherfucker. I’m not signing shit.” She finally said, calm and cutting like a katana to the ballsack.

“But you have to. Otherwise there’s going to be lawyers and worse stuff down the road.”  
  
“Or you could grow a pair and not slap this on women who are generous enough to gift you with their time and company. What the fuck?! If I had known you’re that Chris, I never would have fucked you, no matter how high I was.”   
  
“Why?!” I asked, feeling hurt. “I thought we clicked pretty well.”   
  
“Yeah, but I don’t need the trouble and humiliation fucking a famous dude brings. I never should have gone to the club… I guess it’s my fault mostly. I get super horny when I’m drunk and high.”   
  
“You mean… sober, you wouldn’t have found me attractive?”   
  
“I do find you attractive, but this… this is cold and cynical. I refuse to sign. You’ll have to trust me this time.” Vanessa said.   
  
She was still wearing only a towel from the shower but the balance of power in the scene was definitely not tilted in my favour.   
  
“Why should I trust you? Everyone is dodgy in the end… they all got a friend or a ma or a gay bestie, or want to enjoy their fifteen minutes by selling a piece of me to TMZ.”   
  
“Selfish of you to only consider the fact that only you have a good name and image to defend. I can’t risk people at work finding out I have one night stands with celebrities. I’ve worked so hard to build this ironclad reputation in my line of work.”

“What do you do, that’s so strict?”  
  
“I’m an industrial designer for a big firm here in NY. I’m supposed to take over the new offices in Boston… I can’t let a dick scandal ruin that for me. So, either you sign an NDA for me too, or we both do the grown up thing, trust each other and go our merry way.”

And my sinner fucking mind just had to inquire:  
  
“Soooo… you’ll be working in Boston you say?”

“Yes! It’s a dream situation… It’s still close to home, I can drive to work from home, it’s a fucking dream!”

“You from Boston?”  
  
“No, I’m not American actually… but I bought a house in this cute suburb near a historic lake in the area.”   
  
“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Walden Pond, would you?”   
  
“Uhm… yes?”   
  
“Do you live in Concord?! What the shit?!” I blurted out.   
  
“Yes, I do. But only since three months ago.”   
  
I briefly let myself savour the prospect of getting to have her in my life as a more permanent… or should I say, regular presence.   
  
“Welcome to Concord, then. I’m sure you’ll love it!” I said.

Before I left, we brushed our teeth together at her bathroom mirror and I couldn’t help but have a better look around her place in the daylight.   
  
The interior was tastefully decorated, but looked unused, except for the bedroom and bathroom. Which we had littered with clothes and towels that Vanessa had already begun to pick up.

I wondered if these were the thoughts of the women I brought to my Boston place, on the rare occasions I made that exception and didn’t go to their houses.   
  
This was definitely a _fuckpad_ .  
  
Had I had the one night stand or was I the one night stand?   
  
Considering I was doing the walk of shame, it was obvious which way it was.   
  
It excited me in a perverse way. Deep down I thought I deserved to be taken advantage of in return, for all the girls and women I had left hoping I would call again.   
  
At least I didn’t catch feelings, I had that going for me… Right?


	3. The Crying Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Vanessa were both affected by their first encounter, but in different ways... or... not so different?

**_Vanessa_**  
  
  
Even if I didn’t want to put the Chris Evans mess behind me, I had to do it because I have bigger fish to fry.  
  
Only a day after I sent the guy packing, I had a meeting scheduled with the head of R &D at Boston Dynamics. They do some pretty cool shit there and I am such a fan, I always go to their events and launches when I’m not working on something pressing.  
  
They have a new robotics concept, trying to integrate AI and an android robot. I was told the project is “like Sophie, but not as creepy”. I can understand that, Sophie is weirding me out.  
  
The meeting was incredible. They want me to design the outer skin of the project. As soon as the guys dropped the “Blade Runner” reference, I knew what the feel of this project was. What they need from me is a load of concept designs. So far they’ve done functional robots, Atlas being their only humanoid model and I got the feeling they wanted me to give them an emotion boost about this new direction they were about to tackle.  
  
So I went home to Concord, bought a huge amount of groceries to last me a long time and locked myself up in my work room, immersing myself in every bit of media I could find about autonomous androids and sentient AI I could find. I watched Blade Runner, Terminator 2: Judgment Day, Ex Machina, Her, Daft Punk videos, listened to Björk, Massive Attack, Kamelot and Chemical Brothers… then inevitably I got to the Marvel movies, especially the ones Iron Man is in. And Ultron and Vision, of course.  
  
I kept sketching and prototyping all this time. The more I sketched, the clearer the ideas in my head got and I distilled them down to three solutions.  
  
I was pleased with the ideas that presented themselves and started rendering them.  
The guys from Boston Dynamics had a fun day planned at a skater park in Boston and I was surprised to be invited, but I went nonetheless. I was surprised because when we met, I didn’t look like someone who enjoys skater parts.  
  
Time for my Jeremy Scott tracksuit and winged high tops to come out to play.  
  
And while I haven’t been on a skateboard in ages, I had a blast at the park. We had drinks, talked shop, then switched to nerdy stuff, the impending dread caused by the looming premiere of Infinity War and other stuff. Someone was filming and I strangely didn’t mind. I mean why should I? This was the complete opposite of the CE debacle. I was networking, not ruining my career via others’ rampant misogyny.  
  
As the guys steered the conversation back to Infinity War and everyone agreed they were going to cry like babies of anything happened to Steve, I couldn’t help but think of Chris. I also wondered what these guys would think of me if they knew. I mean, now I was one of them, a cool girl, skating with them and drinking piss-warm Stella Artois from the bottle, the signature drink of Massachusetts hipsters. I WAS one of the guys. And I sure as fuck didn’t want it to be found out that I had been picked up by Chris Evans. Because everyone here knows that Chris Evans doesn’t date.

I sighed. I really didn’t want to spiral down the melancholy drain into a dark depression.  
  
I want a boyfriend. I want a guy who wants to be with me because he thinks I’m cool and meeting me was the best thing that happened to him lately. I want someone who likes to think we’re drift compatible and who doesn’t see me as a downside to my own vagina.  
  
Like, love is rare. And it’s a question of luck and a lot of work. I only know two really happy couples, and they work at their relationships daily. The secret to their self-regenerating love? They both contribute to keeping it alive. No one is holding back, letting the other person do the heavy lifting. I want me some of that. I know perfectly well that I might not get it, because most people aren’t capable of holding on to their own standards and just take what’s there when loneliness and despair hit hard. Those are the worst reasons to choose something you know is going to bite you in the ass later.  
  
I went home and prepared my files for the presentation, backed them up and then penciled in some me time. I deserved some relaxation after sustained work and networking.

My fatal mistake was listening to the Weekend’s new song “Call Out My Name” while on the thick soft carpet in my room, with only the mood lights on. That song awoke such loneliness and longing in me. It reminded me of how I thought that Chris was just a dude, who could be persuaded to be in a relationship. And how nice it would have been to have a boyfriend to dance with in the dark and to hold hands with. I could have done without the rude awakening.  
  
Serves me right. Not every guy with a dashing mustache is cute and awkward. I still fell asleep softly dreaming about Chris not being famous, and my cute supportive boyfriend instead.

 

***  
  
  
**_Chris_**  
  
  
Once the play ended, I went home to rest, having a couple of weeks off before my next commitments.  
  
The first thing I did was take a hair trimmer to my head and stache. I can’t wait until my beard grows back.  
  
I loved spending time at ma’s place. The kids often come there and they’re just the best.  
  
After a first few days of just settling in, I began sinking into the time off mindset and hit Target for some comfortable casual clothes for just bumming around. Besides, it’s better to wear normal clothes when at home, because the people who look out for me have my small wardrobe memorized.  
  
Back at ma’s place, I went to my old room and lay down in my old bed, plugging my laptop in and going to Youtube once I took off my pants and socks and got comfortable. Dodger came to curl up next to me and I began scrolling through what was trending.  
  
On my feed, among puppy videos and NASA content, there was a video from Boston Dynamics. They don’t post to YouTube that often, their new videos always happen on their website and they get shared from there. Their YouTube channel is saved for goofing off, marketing and vlogging.  
  
I clicked on the video and started watching.  
  
Not five minutes in, I spotted Vanessa. Completely different from the woman I had met, she now wore no make-up, a limited edition Jeremy Scott cap and tracksuit and some winged high tops. Damn!  
  
She was laughing and talking to the guys… wait? Does she work for Boston Dynamics? Because in that case, I can see how she sees fucking me as a downgrade. Ain’t nobody got time for a lazy bum from the suburbs who only goes to work so he can afford to be lazy for longer.  
  
The video was under half an hour long, and the more I watched, the more I felt like I had been robbed somehow.  
  
I didn’t like that I got the drunk, self-destructive and ecstasy-popping version, while the rest of her was such prime girlfriend material.  
  
I’ve been with a lot of women who were down for long term and even marriage, who wanted all the kids and who were ready to please me in every way… they really wanted that ring.  
  
But I could never bring myself to take that step, because I deserve more. I deserve happiness, not just to check off some boxes on life’s to do list.  
  
I want a girl who can make me laugh. Who challenges me and makes me want to keep up with her. A girl who has things going on besides me. Exciting, big things - like Vanessa has.

Only Vanessa despises me. I admit I’m shocked, because even women who claim they don’t like me are happy to meet me usually.  
  
Maybe it’s all a front. Maybe she just says she was looking for a non-famous dude to make me think she doesn’t care about me just because my fame is a pain in the ass or to put my suspicion at ease… but no. I’m not bullshitting myself. She doesn’t care.  
  
My YouTube saw fit to mock me, in its detached non-sentience, and jumped over to a new song by The Weeknd.  
  
The guy sang his ass off in “Call Out My Name” and it brought tears to my eyes. I wanted to reach out in the dark and gather someone close, just to feel someone warm in my arms and get cuddles without worrying that it would be on TMZ the next day.  
  
Against my better judgment and feeling pretty fuckin’ raw, I texted Vanessa.  
  
“Hey. You around? I saw you on YouTube.”

****


	4. The Agreement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris goes over to Vanessa's and they have a talk.

**Vanessa** **  
**   
  
I saw the text from Chris and I would have answered right away, but I was soaking in a bubble bath and singing along to my favourite songs of the moment, so homegirl was busy and had wet fingers.   
  
Then, one song later, I decided to be a bit of a cunt and, drying my fingers on a nearby towel, I sent him a bath selfie.   
  
“I’m home, chilling. You?”   
  
God I hope Evans doesn’t do dick pics. Especially now that he knows I won’t rat him out to the press.   
  
I am still offended by that assumption, but in a way, I get it. There’s whole teams of folks, like TMZ, who make a living out of people’s misery.   
  
But celebrities aren’t completely innocent either, as many of them use tabloids to promote themselves or to project a certain way they want to be seen. I don’t know if Chris is guilty of playing these games, but they are dodgy. I definitely wouldn’t get into bed with tabloids, because they can help you one day and stab you the next or when you least expect it.   
  
A few minutes later, when I had already begun to assume he only texted me to see if I reply and how fast, he texted me back a selfie too, taken while he was reclining on a bed. He was wearing comfortable house clothes, sweatpants and a muscle tank which revealed almost his whole side, his Bardsley tattoo and the nice curve of his pec, the fabric not even covering the nipple completely.   
  
That… sure beats a dick pic. I didn’t know if Chris did it knowingly or if this was simply how he dressed when doing jack shit at home. From the background, I guessed he was in his childhood room in his mom’s house, because there were old, yellowed posters of surfers, puppies and dinosaurs on the wall. And one of Sandra Bullock.

My throat was desert dry.

 _“I’m fine, a bit sad. Can we talk? I promise this is not a booty call.” He texted after the pic. “Can you come over once you get out of the bubbles?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Are you alone at home?” I texted back._ _  
_   
“Nah, Ma, Shanna, Scott and Stella are here too.”

_“Man, I’m not sure we’re at the meet the fam milestone. I mean… what am I to you? ‘Hi, this is Vanessa, she ate my ass once.’? I appreciate the openness, but it feels weird right now. You could come over?”_

_“But I’m lazy…”_ _  
_   
“You don’t need to change clothes. It’s not like you’re going into town.”

_“Ok hold up a sec. I don’t know where you live.”_

_I texted him the address._ _  
_   
“If you hurry, you’ll get fed too.”

 _“Should I trust you?”_ _  
_   
“Bitch, I’m Italian-Italian.”

He drove over to my place in record time and when I opened the door, he was standing there looking out of place and nervous. His dog was friendly and polite and we shook hands cutely before I let them in. 

He recognised me immediately and made himself at home, hopping on my sofa and watching us from there, like “what? It’s made for sits.”

I showed Chris to my kitchen and I heard him go even quieter. 

A big tray of Conchiglioni was blubbering happily in the oven, smelling delicious. Chris’ belly growled loudly.   
  
I smiled and gave him two sets of cutlery and some plates.   
  
“Take these to the deck out back. I’m bringing the food and giving Dodger some food too.”   
  
I keep some quality dog food for when other friends with dogs drop by. I assumed Dodger would love a little unexpected extra for the day.   
  
Chris was surprised I had dog food without having a dog (which was a project in the making), but when he saw it was the good shit, he said I could give Dodger a can. But no more, because he anticipated begging.   
  
Once Dodger was nomming happily, I took the Conchiglioni out with oven mitts and a spoon.   
  
I also opened a bottle of Rosso della Valle, an American light-bodied red that impressed me on first taste. I took it to the deck, along with red wine glasses.   
  
“Wow. You always dine so boujee or are you giving an extra fuck when there’s company?”   
  
“It depends in both cases.” I shrugged. “I do like treating myself. And with the right people, I don’t mind sharing.”

“Thanks for dinner by the way. It’s fucking delicious.”

I smiled and thanked him. For me, this is nothing special. I taught myself how to cook when I left home because I love eating fresh.   
  
We talked animatedly about all sorts of topics, avoiding… us. Not that there was an “us”, but the air between us still carried some unsolved tension.   
  
“So. I wouldn’t have pegged you out for someone who wears Jeremy Scott.” Chris said, referencing the video of me on YouTube.   
  
“Yeah, I’m edgy like that,” I joked and shrugged. “I don’t really like dressing up. I clean up well and I do know the power of a Louboutin and a black dress, but I’m all for comfy clothes. Life’s too short to be an ongoing torture museum exhibit for the others’ viewing pleasure.”

“You just described me and suits. Man I hate red carpets, but I kinda signed up for this.”   
  
I gave him a Look.   
  
“Dude. There’s pics of you in tracksuits on red carpets. I seem to remember a red Puma jacket?”   
  
He facepalmed.   
  
“It sucks that as soon as you get a bit known, nothing ever goes away and you never live anything down.”

“It’s not really bad, I’m just teasing. It takes a big solid set to show up in a tracksuit on a red carpet.”   
  
“In my defense, I never broke the dress code. Some events were for sports and sporty fashion so…if I was given the choice between a suit and a tracksuit, I went for what I felt best in.”   
  
“I have a feeling you didn’t come over to discuss chav couture.” I said, dividing the remaining wine into our glasses.   
  
“No, I did not,” Chris said, straightening up in his seat. “I wanted to see if there could be more between us. I have a feeling we started off in the wrong way, wrong moment, wrong vibe… and after I saw the video with you, I realised you were right. I wish I wasn’t in this industry and didn’t have to bend to its demands. I wish I had the freedom to pursue someone like you and have a chance to maybe be considered.” 

“Look, it’s not the fact that you’re Chris Evans. It’s the fucking rules and coming across as entitled and more important. Those are headaches I do not wish to opt into.” I said. “I want nothing to do with that world. And I will flip all the fucking tables if I end up in the tabloids."

His eyes grew bigger and rounder.  
  
“So does that mean… we can be a thing?”   
  
“Yes. It does. But: not one word to anyone else for now. No giddy texts to the squad, no heart to hearts with your mom, nothing. And well, full disclosure, I’m affection-starved and not that big on sex when sober, which explains why I’m such a huge ho when stoned and drunk. I’d like that known up front. I’d rather you bail now than try to exploit that knowledge about me later or try to guilt trip me. I need to be comfortable with someone to let them close. And I want ALL the cuddles and affection.”

“That, I can do. I haven’t had a real girlfriend who let me love on her in a while… are you sure you’re OK with me having to travel so much and sometimes on short notice?”  
  
“Sure. I need to do that too.”

“How do you feel about my having many female friends?”

“How do you feel about my having a lot of guy friends? I can be civil if you can. But I don’t do mingling well… if a conversation bores me, I bail.”   
  
“Seems fair. I’m game.”

“Let’s go to bed then. Did you tell your mom you’re not coming home for the night? She deserves to be worry-free.”

“I’ll quickly call her.” 

I put the dishes away while Chris spoke to his mom and I heard him from the kitchen telling her simply that he’s staying with a friend and she shouldn’t wait up. Good boy.   
  
When he returned, I handed him a big towel and a toothbrush.

“Meet you upstairs in bed.”

Fifteen minutes later, I heard him call from the first floor.   
  
“Um, Vanessa? Where are you?”   
  
“Up here. Attic.” I said. Dodger had already come to bed and he had taken the free half, probably expecting Chris to sleep curled up at our feet.   
  
When Chris came up and stood in the doorway, he eyed Dodger for a while and sighed, then arched an eyebrow.   
  
“Really, pal? Where do I fit in?”   
  
Dodger whined for a bit, but went to curl up at the foot of the bed.   
  
Chris got into bed, wearing only his underwear.   
  
“Look, if you feel comfy and safe in those, leave them on. But I would advise against sleeping in them and then wearing them tomorrow too. I know what’s under there, anyway, so…”

“Right. I didn’t want to creep you out.”   
  
“Well, I’m naked under this blanket so…”   
  
He slipped closer and sighed.   
  
“You made it really nice here.”   
  
“Yeah this skylight wasn’t in before. Look how beautiful the night sky is. You can see so many stars too.”   
  
“My LA house has a skylight, but the view is not as nice as from here. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks.”  
  
I switched off the light and settled more comfortably against the pillows. 

“Come closer. I’ll hold you.” I whispered.   
  
When I saw him in the club, not knowing who he was, it was the quiet loneliness he gave off that drew me to him. And I had seen it still there, a big silent scream depicted in his posture and in his eyes as he stood on my doorstep earlier that evening.   
  
I didn’t always need to be the one being held.

He moved closer and LEGO-ed himself against me until I felt his breath on my chest and his lips on my neck. Then he turned away a bit, so he could still see the skies above us. 

“Tell me about the stars,” Chris whispered in the dark.   
  
I started naming all the constellations above us and all the details and trivia I knew about them. I always read the Sky Map section of my weather app because I find it super interesting. And by looking at his Twitter, I knew he is a space nerd too.  
  
He was out like a light in under five minutes and soon the room was filled by the stereo snoring of man and dog.  
  
I thought I’d mind and I reached for the ear plugs in my nightstand, but I found the sound strangely soothing, so I found a good position and fell asleep too.   
  
Now I could finally listen to Abel singing without tearing the fuck up all the time.   
  
The only thing I do miss is that sinful stache. 


	5. Growing Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanessa's thoughts on her nicely developing relationship

_**Vanessa**_  
  
  
Being with Chris was a pretty chill ride from then on. We both hate fighting, even though three quarters of our couple are Italian. So we talk about some petty stuff until the topic is exhausted and we both have some sort of satisfaction we got our point across.    
  
It was a while before he introduced me to his friends and family. They were really nice to me, all of them, at least to my face. Lisa just adopted me right away when she found out I was alone in the States and my family was back in Italy. I’m really lucky, and I can see where Chris gets his kindness and softness from. His sisters are also a lot of fun and Carly babies Chris, despite everything. Whenever they are together, he can be found with the kids while the other grown ups drink wine on the deck or in the kitchen.    
  
Dodger started to really like me. He does tricks for me and he let me use him as a test subject for a sustainable shelter for stray dogs I was designing for the Boston city administration.    
  
Chris is surprisingly helpful around the house. He will lament not knowing how to do this and that well enough, but given some indication, he’ll do it. I mean… I would have thrown a fit if he had started with the leaving the toilet seat up and not cleaning up after himself in my home.    
  
My favourite moments are evenings when I’ve been at the graphic tablet all afternoon already and I forgot the time. Then he comes in, smelling warm and carrying a sweet treat, whether a drink or a pastry of some sort, which he places on my desk a bit further away while he wraps his arms around me from behind and kisses my neck.    
  
That’s my cue that I’ve worked long enough and it’s time to rest my eyes and my spine. Then, we go downstairs and make dinner, eat outside on the deck while looking at the skies and various little creatures in my garden who are going to bed and take a few hits before enjoying a shared bubble bath and then going to bed.

Despite what outer appearances might point to, Chris is not a sex beast and he knows I’m fine with that. Sometimes, there just isn’t energy for sex. He flies across the USA, sometimes the world and he hurries back home, jetlag and sheer exhaustion mowing him down.   
  
Sometimes we both need something else, some other kind of closeness. This is not all the time, but on some nights, in the quiet of our bedroom, anxiety attacks in full force. Watching him spiral for the first time was terrifying. I wanted to help him so much, and he told me, crying, that nothing helps. He’s tried pills, yoga, meditation, Eckhart Tolle seminars, but nothing really works long time or even every time. 

So I taught him something I learned a while ago too, called Calling in No Mind.    
  
We sat cross-legged in bed, facing each other, with our eyes closed and I asked Chris to quiet his mind down and empty it. See if he can have three seconds without thoughts.    
  
He got so frustrated and angry, so fast.   
  
I told him to close his eyes again and rested my forehead against his.   
  
“Don’t try to control it. You don’t have to wrestle and subdue your mind now.” I said, starting to caress his arms and chest with small, calming motions. “Just let it do its little show number before it stops on its own.”   
  
“But I’m scared.”    
  
“I’m here, see? Nothing bad can happen. If you don’t manage now, we’ll try some other time.”   
  
Minutes later, a smile spread across his features. He had managed.    
  
I then showed him the rest of the technique and, while it took us hours to get towards the end, it was so worth it because after that, Chris slept like a dog freshly back from the groomer’s. And he was so refreshed and in a great mood the next day!   
  
A while after that, I noticed him looking at me differently. When he thought I wasn’t looking, he’d have this awed look on his face and a little smile fluttering on his lips. 

Something else changed, and from a certain viewpoint, it enraged me that it changed and so much further down the line.   
  
I finally got to see and experience the loving side of Chris in bed. Sex stopped being a demonstrative acrobatic or endurance event. It began to be the full-on, sensual adventure I always require sex to be, and the standard I hold myself up to.    
  
It sucks to feel like you’ve been admitted to the full benefits program. Like your fully open and generous self wasn’t enough the first time.    
  
I tried to put myself in his shoes and imagine how fleeting, if frequent, the instances of sexual connection must be for Chris, as someone who is always on the move, always in demand and an object of desire for all women who come in contact with him (and some men too, because his charms have universal appeal).    
  
But this was where my logic and empathy paused for reflection. Why would someone expend so much time and sexual energy and expose themselves - only to treat themselves to a mechanical workout that happens to involve their genitals and that ends inevitably in an NDA and loads of awkwardness?    
  
Perhaps men are rigged differently; perhaps they are raised with the expectation and the entitlement that every time their dick itches, it needs and deserves to be scratched.    
  
I’ve never had sex with someone hoping I never have to see them again afterwards, so I cannot relate or see it in any other way than sad and isolating.    
  
I knew full well that Chris would be jaded about love and relationships. This is what he gets for indulging in everything on every opportunity. If you always have ice cream in your fridge and you eat a pint every night, it stops being a special treat and at some point you can’t even understand why some people love ice cream so much. 

I did feel pleased though to be on the receiving end of Chris’ loving attentions. It was great not having to ask for what I wanted all the time and not having to give instructions along the way. He did put in the attention and the work; he knew what I liked by now. 

Everything else rearranged itself around the reality of us being a couple. And somehow, we managed to keep things under wraps so no paps and no rumour chasers came after us.   
  


We also didn’t have massive serious talks about joint futures and the details thereof, because, what is the point? Marriage is not on the table.    
  
But I dreaded it so much, especially since every woman I come into contact with here is kid-crazy. They either have kids or look forward to having kids. Their own, biological kids, to which they take a very fetishizing approach, from blushing admissions about loving the feeling of being “owned” via their partner’s sperm to knowing remarks about “it’s different when it’s your own kid!” and blood-curdling cruel quips about infertile or childfree women. 

I never thought of the topic too much, figuring out things would sort themselves out in due time. But now I’m over a certain age and I realised that, if I had really wanted kids, I would have pursued that goal and I would have had them in my twenties.    
  
As for Chris, he lets his family and friends mock him and laugh at him on the topic of not having kids yet, though I see how hard it is for him and what a huge attic of unvisited pain it would be to unravel and look at his heart on the issue of kids.    
  
On one hand, there is the almighty Lifescript - the expectation and the imperative that you grow up, get a career, get married, have kids, have grandkids, then die. No one tells you that it might not be for you, that instead of giving you happiness and a sense of belonging, it will rob you of your life and leave you feeling imprisoned.    
  
On the other hand, there’s the personal desire to do right by your parents and to fit in, to be privy to all the talks and not be left out from the social and family narrative. And I could sense Chris was thinking this way, while also hoping that whoever he ended up marrying and having kids with would bring him happiness, not misery.    
  
So privately, I knew my relationship had an expiration date. 

And I still couldn’t stop myself from falling in love.


	6. From Embers to Ashes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Vanessa have The Talk.

_**Chris** _   
  
I can pinpoint exactly the moment I knew she was my person. And that I was really, really in love with her. The certainty and the strength of that feeling was so fulfilling. I carried it in me for a while, like a delightful secret, for a few days.    
  
She’s so good with everyone, tactful, compassionate, funny and supportive. I watched her with the little kids in my family, with the women, with my bro friends. I watched her wisely pick her battles and not take shit from anyone. Hell, I love it when she gives me shit.    
  
It’s a mystery how no one ratted us in yet and how we were allowed to bask in anonymity for so long. I travelled with her to some design events in Europe and she came to visit me on the sets of the two movies I’ve shot since then.    
  
She helped me learn so much and gave me a tool to manage my anxiety that’s always there, within reach, easy to use and needs no prescription.   
  
Thanks to her, I started working on a short film idea. And because she has an engineering mind, she came up with practical solutions for mounting the camera and moving it as I need it without the huge budget that usually requires. She filled my life with joy and made me feel like I am finally going somewhere and not going alone.    
  
And it’s not just the nice side of having a girlfriend; she doesn’t cling and she doesn’t depend on me and it’s just so good to have a best friend with whom I can be me, not having to constantly wonder which Chris persona they’d rather hang out except plain old me. It’s also feeling like I finally belong with someone.    
  
But lately something started worrying me.    
  
I’ve been considering proposing to her. What’s the use of waiting indefinitely? I’m not getting any younger and I don’t want my kids’ teachers to think I’m their granddad when I pick them up from school. Besides, she might have problems getting and staying pregnant too since she’s past thirty. 

Never one for open confrontation, I decided to watch her interact with my sisters, mom and friends. Kids come up in conversation a lot.    
  
What I noticed is that, while she enjoys time spent with the kids themselves and builds things with them, she shuts down every time someone brings up the joys of having kids. It’s like she’s allergic to Kodak moments and genuine happiness.    


At first, I didn’t get it. She’s great with kids, she has patience with them and she prefers hanging out with them, like I do. But as soon as someone mentions her future kids to her, I see her mentally implode. She thinks she hides it well, and maybe she does, from others, but I see it.   
  
For me, kids are very important. A dealbreaker topic. Because I’m all about legacy and not being alone on my deathbed.    
  
And, since Vanessa is so perfect for me in every other way, I decided to round up the courage and talk to her.    
  
I got a calm and firm “no”. I had expected that. And I was prepared.   
  
I told her that kids bring meaning to our lives, that we should have living tokens of our love for each other in the world, little people whom we can chisel into good persons that will carry our legacy further into the world long after we’re gone.    
  
“I am open to adoption. I’m a wealthy woman with many possibilities, and I do meaningful work for the world. My legacy are the many products that people now use in their homes, and the medical devices that make their healing and recovery easier. I do not need to force a new soul out into this world to task them with a mission they might not wish to carry out,” she said. If you want to have kids, don’t think they’ll be much help in insuring your name’s immortality. People are usually forgotten after three generations, unless they do something noteworthy and useful for the world, besides reproduce.” 

Her mentioning adoption was a hard pill to swallow. I’m not against it, but after I have my own kids. Although… adopted kids would be my own kids. But none of my friends went that route, so why should I renounce my privilege? Plus, the world out there is holding its collective breath for me to have kids of my own, because they want more of me to squee at in any shape or form possible… 

Plus I hate how calmly she always dismantles my reasoning, and how she underlines the faults in my logic. I guess I’ve begun parroting what I heard growing up… but fuck it. No one else considers that maybe they don’t have the right to inflict this world on a brand new human… so why should I?    
  
And I finally want to no longer be the one being laughed at. I am sick of looking at happiness from the outside, through a dirty window. I want in. And I want Vanessa in there with me.    
  
As a man, I can still brush off the snide remarks and the mockery. But as a woman, it’s impossible to navigate life with dignity if you are open about not wanting to be a mother. While I don’t think all women should be mothers, I don’t see why someone healthy, wealthy and in a relationship would not want to do this.    
  
I would put the world at her feet. Get her all the plastic surgery, the nannies and all the support she would want. We can afford everything. Even a surrogate, if she wanted that. 

“Chris, do you know the story of the happy man’s shirt? We learn it in school in italy. Maybe Lisa told it to you?” She asked me.    
  
“No? What does that have to do with anything? Don’t derail, this is important to me!” I said, starting to get upset. 

“It’s the tale of an emperor who had everything, and whose son was terminally ill. Nothing could heal him. Until one old, wise man came along and told the emperor that, if his son can wear the happy man’s shirt, he would be healed. And the emperor went searching high and low all through his empire, looking for a happy man. And everyone he came across admitted that they were not actually happy; especially the rich. Eventually, on a field outside a small village, he came across a man who said he was perfectly happy in that moment, picking apples from a tree. The emperor wrestled the man to the ground and made to take his shirt - but under his coat, the happy man wore none.”   
  
“And what the fuck is this supposed to mean? That I should give up my life’s dreams because of you?” I heard myself say through gritted teeth. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself? You said in the beginning that you wanted a steady relationship, a boyfriend, and a love story with a happy end. Why did you string me along if you’re not going to give me that too?”    
  
“Oh, so I should knowingly do something that I know will make me miserable for the rest of my life, just because you want to have your cake and eat it too? Things are simple, Chris. If loving me and having my love is not enough, I am clearly not the one for you.”    
  
God it’s so unnerving when she stays so calm and doesn't escalate. Where’s that Mediterranean temperament when you need it? This should continue with us shouting atrocities at each other until we get tired and have furious make-up sex. 

“Me giving birth to your mini-mes is not the only way we could be parents, Chris. But you are adamant about your kids being biologically yours, so I’m not an option in that case. Just like you assumed I would be on board with your plans, I too allowed myself to dream that, with so much access to information and being such a thoughtful individual, you would be able to sort the bullshit from the facts and grow out of the Lifescript. Instead, you stand here before me and bingo me like the world’s ending.” She added.    
  
“These are not bingos, these are legitimate thoughts and you’re the one who refuses to see past her comfy life of freedom and getting everything she wants. Why would you not share it with a little baby or two? There are people who are poor who make it work. Chris Hemsworth barely saw his wife in the first years of his marriage, but they make it work. I should have listened to my buddies about you when they first warned me you’re too self-centered. I am looking for a supportive partner, not a selfish, unrelenting one.”   
  
“Then find one, for fuck’s sake. I am not having a kid just to keep you here. You need to want to be here.” Vanessa said, hammering the last nail in the coffin of our relationship. 

Why was I so blind? Why did I wallow in so many illusions? I should have listened to my bro friends. I need a woman by my side, one who is not afraid of being a full woman.    
  
I sighed.    
  
“Then this is it. We’re over. I would have loved you so much. You would have been my world and we’d have been the cutest family in Massachusetts.” I said.    
  
“Family does not end in blood, Chris. It is not on me that you can only love by the numbers. But I wish you well and that you soon find exactly what you want.”    
  
With that, she got up, gathered her few things from my home and stopped one last time at the door.    
  
“Farewell, Chris. You’ll make a great dad.” 

No sooner did she close the door, than my floodgates opened. I cried like I haven’t cried before in my life. I had the distinct feeling that happiness the way I’d pictured it had walked out the door in Vanessa’s tow.    
  
The room was deafeningly quiet and I could hear my crying amplified by the silence. I couldn’t stop. 

 

***   
  
It took me two months to get over the break-up. What helped was also the fact that Vanessa disappeared, as though she’s never been real.    
  
The video on youtube of her with Boston Dynamics was gone. Her house was empty and for sale when I drove past. I called at her office in Boston and they told me she had resigned and were unable to give me further information.    
  
All the better. I could recover sooner and resume looking for someone who shares my dreams. 

Maybe I won’t ever find someone who completes me as well as she did. But I’ll find someone who isn’t afraid to roll her sleeves and change a diaper. And she will love me. I’ll be the best, most involved husband ever.  
  


***

_**Vanessa** _  
  
  
I left and put an ocean between us as soon as I could. I wrote applications on the plane and by the time I landed, I had a job again.    
  
I went where everyone looking for love with enough idealism to think they’d also get it in a way that doesn’t destroy them would go - Paris.    
  
I can start all over, easy. I’ve done it so many times.    


Time to put my American episode _ad acta_.    
  
I played it so cool in front of Chris, but the truth is, it is killing me. I gave myself a month to return to being functional before I had to show up at the new workplace.    
  
What else is there but carrying on and hoping that one day, the sun will rise on my street as well, and without demanding a sacrifice?  
  
My first project with the new firm was for the UN, an ambitious minimalistic and green housing concept for people affected by natural disasters. Parallel to that, I had to take over a project to design a vaccine pen that doesn’t require outer packaging to keep the needle and the active agent inside sterile and safe during transportation and storage.    
  
Ah, work. Always there to catch me when I fall. And luckily for me, these were projects that made me feel like I did make a difference in the world.    
  
I should be angrier. Of all the people in the world, I was expecting Chris to be more accepting of different world views.    
  
Thinking about it, in hindsight, my words to him that he should find exactly what he looks for, no more and no less, have a double meaning.    
  
The people of Ancient Rome had a saying: “be careful what you ask from the gods, because they might just give it to you.”    



	7. Void Malign

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris goes on his merry way. There's a dream sequence, be warned if that's not your thing. There's even a dream-death, but you know how those are. When you dream someone dies, usually it means they thrive in real life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will have a different feel to it because I was listening to Lana del Rey while I was writing. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless and I promise it will shape up nicely in the end.

_**Chris** _   
  
I started dating around soon after. I of all people could not afford to wait. Not with Scarlett who is egging me on, or Hemsworth who keeps asking me if I want to adopt one of his kids.    
  
Everywhere I look, just families and kids, things for kids, family friendly everything. I haven’t said “fuck” in a movie in ages because everything, even horror and disaster movies, have to be family friendly.    
  
It’s isolating.    
  
I can’t talk to Ma, because she liked Vanessa and she’s upset with me for breaking things off so abruptly. She stayed friends with all the girls I brought home to her.    
  
Usually she takes my word for it on things, but when she asked me why I broke up with Vanessa and I told her that Vanessa lied to me and hurt me, she told me I was full of shit and that she isn’t buying it.    
  
And Ma is a big feminist. She would bite my head off and munch on the remains if I admitted that I dumped her because she didn’t want to have my kids. But on the other hand, she raised me to go after what I want and not let myself talked out of it and deterred. 

One of my buddies introduced me to his sister, Amerie. She’s hot as hell and not thirty yet. She’s easy to talk to and we hit it off the first time we met. We talked all night and I took her home, said hi to her bro and returned home to sleep. When I woke up, I had a text from her saying she liked hanging out.    
  
“Let’s do it again,” I said.    
  
The second date ended in sex. But not like, the whole menu. I learned my lesson.    
  
Amerie and I just made out for a long time and then I slipped my hand up under her dress. I loved her little sigh as she gave in and let me take the lead, spreading her legs just a little bit more, letting my hand go where it pleased.    
  


Now this was known scenery and it felt comforting. I was a man, she was a woman. We both knew our parts and no one trashed the script in the middle of the play. 

When I left her place, I had her perfume in my hair and her taste lingered on my lips. Lana del Rey was singing “Summertime Sadness” in my car, on the radio and I let myself sink into that feeling… of knowing that everything WAS going to be alright.    
  
Because good things don’t come to those who wait. Good things come to those who grab them. 

 

***   
  
All of my optimism went out the window at night, when every time I fell asleep I went back to a dreamscape that turned to nightmare.    
  
It started off nice, like the back of Ma’s house and I was hanging up laundry to dry. There were many sheets fluttering in the wind and out of one of them, wrapped in it like a shroud, Vanessa stepped forth, dancing around me and giggling evilly. She would reach to touch me, wanting to take my hand as if to make me dance with her, but I refused. So she dragged me by the hand, through more and more sheets hung out to dry, until the scenery changed and we were on a mountain pasture, beautiful, green and untouched. I looked behind us, Ma’s house was nowhere to be seen.    
  
Her white dress dragged on the ground and her bare feet shone with dew from the grass. She kept swirling around me, the flowy fabric of her dress and the veil layers constantly fluttering into my face, sticking to it.    
  
I started tearing the fabric to shreds, but the more I tore, the more it got.   
  
We got to the top of the mountain and I looked out in the distance.  There was a village, where people went about their daily lives, taking their kids to school, milking their cows, picking fruit and going to work.    
  
Beneath us, at the foot of the mountain, there was a lake on top of a glacier, a clear sapphire blue.    
  
Vanessa kept dancing around me and wrapping an end of her dress around my arm. When I realised what she wanted to do, I started fighting her. The more I fought, the more the fabric wrapped itself tighter and tighter around my arm.    
  
Desperate, I put my hands around her neck and squeezed. I couldn’t do it all the way.    
  
But as soon as I loosened my grip on her throat, the dress wound itself tighter around me.    
  
Rubble was rolling down into the abyss below.    
  
I didn’t want to die. I wanted to live and love and enjoy all the happy things I had waited and worked so much for.    
  
I thought of how cute my friends’ kids are and how they love me, how everyone tells me I am made to be a dad and what a cosmic injustice it would be if I was robbed of it.    
  
And I squeezed. And squeezed, until I could see the capillaries burst in her eyes and the light in them fade. Her grin faded too, and her sinister giggle went mute.    
  
Finally, I was free. Her dress let go of me too and I pushed her into the gaping void at our feet. 

At the last second, a tendril of her dress reached up and wrapped itself around my ankle, pulling me down after her.    
  
I fell.    
  
I woke up with a start.    
  
What devilry is this? I wondered, feeling a strange pulsing sensation in my left arm.    
  
I couldn’t fall asleep anymore, so I went online on my phone to look at dream dictionaries while petting Dodger, who had no problem sleeping next to me. 

God I hated Vanessa. Even more after that fucked up dream. Why did it have to be so cinematic and beautiful? Maybe I should make a horror movie, no plot but try to recreate the uneasy feeling I had in my dream… and then that horrible sensation of falling to my death. I might be the next Dario Argento!   
  
So relieving to think that I had deleted her contact information from all my accounts. Otherwise I would have been tempted to seek her out and demand a reckoning. Not for the dream, d’oh, but for the sadistic way she strung me along like a fish on a rope. Who even does that? Get someone to fall in love with them and wait patiently until their victim is the most vulnerable to deliver the killer blow.    


She had no right to be so good for me and to make me fall in love with her. Now… now everything is poisoned. Now nothing will be good enough. 

And I will get what I want, but with a terrible twist to it.    
  
My throat closed and I couldn’t breathe anymore for a long time when that realisation hit.   
  
My first breath felt like benzene on my airways and a chilling sound left my chest along with it. I could not stop the sobs when they hit. 

 


	8. Fireworks in Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's Vanessa been up to since Chris broke up with her?

__**Vanessa**  
  
  
It didn’t take long until work swallowed me whole, eating up most of my time, at least in the research and development phase.    
  
It would have gone easier and faster if I hadn’t been this walking gaping wound.    
  
I did not begrudge Chris his choice… well, I did, but not all the way. I definitely didn’t hate him. He was doing what he felt was the best bet to attain happiness the way he pictured it.    
  
But no one, not even the most steel-hearted individual, can easily gloss over being told they aren’t enough or the wrong person for one small reason.   
  
I can’t tell myself to not love him anymore. He was perfect for me, and while I haven’t pictured our wedding day in detail and didn’t make a pinterest board for our married life, I was ready for every step we would take together. I didn’t factor in how much the drive to conform would shape Chris’ choices.    
  
I didn’t think I could love someone more than I loved Chris. I didn’t even want to. This was one of the things I factored in my decision to not give birth to my own kids. Choosing a partner consciously and loving them with all your being, only to look at them once you had kids and feel like they are a stranger? Someone you would let die in a fire if it was a choice between saving them or your kids?    
  
Yes, I am terrified of the bad things I know lie dormant in me, which would give themselves permission to surface if I had a kid, which society encourages me to favour above anyone and anything else. It is a socially desirable form of narcissism I do not want to see spring forth out of me.   
  
Now I just feel empty. There is a Chris-sized hole in my life that I don’t know how to patch up. And I don’t want to. I look at men around me and I feel nothing. Some are lovely and kind, and they would make good friends, but no one looks like an upgrade from what I had and lost.    
  
I don’t mind not dating anyone from now on. I’m most definitely not going to clubs to pick up sad strangers with sexy mustaches anymore.   
  
Work got me in the position to meet Tom Hiddleston. He is a UNICEF ambassador and he will be promoting the safe needle solution I’m designing to get it funded and distributed to areas that need it.    
  
As far as Not Chrises go, he is a charming one. He’s well spoken, respectful, kind and a pleasant conversation partner. His eyes didn’t glaze in boredom when I showed him the sketches and talked him through the development process.    
  
We became friends. I visited his place, he came to mine. We walked through Paris and he offered me his arm. We were wrapped up warm, wearing berets and scarves on a windy day as we walked through the Quartier Latin. We shopped at Ladurée and ran through the rain to take the metro to my place. 

We dried off and Tom cleaned his dog’s paws as well as I opened a bottle of wine and a can of puppy chow.    
  
“You are unbelievably easy to be around. I find myself looking forward to our meetings and conversations, even outside our joint work project.” Tom said, snuggled in one of my blankets on the sofa. “It’s like I found a more stylish and more focused me that’s also good at math things.” He added, smiling shyly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound like a pompous twat. I guess I’m failing to express how alike I think we are and how good I feel around you. Bobby loves you too.”   
  
“Oh Tom,” I said, making sure my smile reached my eyes and showed him the warmth was genuine. “I feel the same. I must however spoil the mood. I need to confess that I’m a grumpy individual. Not long ago, a relationship I was feeling perfectly happy and at ease in was ended abruptly… and I am… how should I put it? Not going to get over it too soon.”    
  
Tom again surprised me and raised above my expectations.    
  
“Oh I feel you. Sometimes we meet people who would be perfect for us, but we’re found lacking and there is nothing we can do about it.” He said, looking like he spoke from experience too. “I am the saltiest bitch, as kids say these days. Some rejections hurt more than others. Some are easy to get over while others are downright narcissistic injuries that vex you in your heart of hearts. I too wonder if there might come a time when I am not aching from the defeats of the past.” 

I felt comfortable enough with Tom to be more myself than with most other people.    
  
“I was dumped unceremoniously because I confessed I have no wish to birth any children and that I am open to adoption instead.” I admitted. “People who say it’s not the same when they’re not yours… those have the blackest hearts and should not be entrusted with any child.”    
  
“Only a glorified arsehole of the lowest degree would do such a thing.” Tom said.    
  
“You happen to know him very well and call him a friend.” I offered. I don’t know what possessed me to do so, but there we were. Salt as far as the eye can see.   
  
“Is it Chris Evans?” Tom asked, rolling his eyes. “It figures. Chris is a lovely, lovely man, but a huge moron in some respects. I love him dearly as a friend but… sometimes I wish I could hold him upside down until his mind migrates from his arse back to his head.”

“Oh Tom. I would never want anyone to change themselves in order to be with me, because that’s how you get shaky marriages and hasty divorces. And I want neither.” 

“You’re right… although Chris does squander his blessings in many ways.”    
  
“That’s true… but if it makes him happy?”    
  
“That’s the thing. It doesn't. He just chases after what he wants because he loves control. Happiness has to be exactly what he pictured. Nothing less. But also, nothing more. And well, some of our castmates make fun of him and pressure him to fit in, and he goes along with it. I would not… but then again… I’m not in the main group. I’m just the weirdo with the Shakespeare kink from England.” 

“I think you’re outstandingly slick and cool,” I said. “That, and you serve killer looks.” 

Tom laughed, that pixie “hehehehehe” of his as he looked down at Bobby, who was sleeping with his head on his daddy’s lap. 

“Not if you ask my fanbase and the tabloids… apparently I am severely depressed because when I take Bobby out for a poo in the rain, mud gets on my boots.” 

“Oh dear… “ I said, joining him in laughing. “Bitches be trippin’.”  
  
He laughed at that, his crow's feet becoming more visible. I felt grateful to have him in those moments.   
  
Not long after that, we attended a party together at an exclusive venue and someone leaked a video of Tom and I, dressed to the nines in designer evening wear, dancing to a hip hop chart topper of the moment.    
  
By the time we got back to my place, everyone with a wi-fi now had an opinion… and of course, now I was the evil cunt who dared to snatch Tom Hiddleston… because that’s how fandom rolls.    
  
I didn’t mind or care as much as I would have if my relationship with Chris had gotten out. Maybe it was because I did not feel guilty for ruining tom’s peace of mind and good overall mood. He was perfectly capable of navigating the downsides of fame and he laughed at the preposterous things being said about him. He did apologise profusely for the shit that was being slung my way by his rude fans, but I was cool with it if he was.    
  
Inside I was still not happy. I was participating in life, I had friends, I was doing well at work… but sometimes at night, I would lie awake for hours and watch the stars and the planets…   
  
… and remember how Chris used to name them all for me and tell me they had all come out to watch us go at it.    



	9. Catalyst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris gets some insight into his recent decisions.

_**Chris** _   
  
By the looks of everything, I might be getting married next spring. Everyone is pumped for Amerie and me.   
  
I’m pumped I finally get to have babies of my own.

Ma is neither thrilled nor disappointed and she’s civil to Amerie, but I can tell she wishes she had Vanessa back. Then again she’ll love finally having grandkids from me so I guess that’s the thought that keeps her in line and treating my fiancée well.  
  
I had to do a grand proposal and go down on one knee on a movie set, with 98% of Marvel watching.

Amerie was thrilled. She was also thrilled by the two million dollar worth engagement ring.   
  
I can tell she wants to be here. She is the ideal woman indeed. Loves Disney, wants many kids, is great to my nephews, niece and friends and she takes great care of Dodger. She bathes and grooms him more than I do!   
  
She also doesn’t mind the public attention. She takes being papped when returning from the dog groomer’s or from yoga in stride and isn’t fazed by the tabloids making a huge news story about her going out to run errands. And because she doesn’t mind, I don’t mind that much either. Amerie told me this is part of the package when it comes to being a movie star and engaged to one. My PR rep and her get along swimmingly.   
  
Amerie also fits in great with the wives of my Marvel co-stars. They’re even talking about getting a tattoo together. But after I get her name tattooed on me. I plan to do it after the wedding, out of superstition. But why would I not want my wife’s tattooed on me? Of course I do! She already picked the lettering style she likes best.   


She loves spending my money and meeting my friends too, but that is just a sign of her getting comfortable with her new identity as my wife.   
  
When I went to Vegas, she said nothing, even though TMZ got a video of me getting a lap dance. However, the next day she got herself five Gucci handbags. I can’t say I’m thrilled but… this is what wives do. NOT give their men shit or go to the press with the story.   
  
Lately, I’ve become an avid reader of tabloids too. Funny how Vanessa chose to surface now. I told myself, fuck it, my ducks are all in a row, I don’t care what she does.

Ooooh, damn was I wrong.   
  
I saw her on Tom Hiddleston’s arm, they both had red cheeks and were smiling, walking through Paris in designer clothes. Walking Bobby together or just her. Dancing and having a great time at a fancy event.   
  
I was so certain she would disappear forever from my radar or do something desperate to cover up the void left in her life by not being a mom. But here she is, having fun and looking like she’s thriving alongside that slippery guy. Maybe he’s just as against parenthood as she is and they found each other, in which case, mazel tov.   
  
Maybe she’s just pretending to be happy. If she’s dating Tom, she’s in for a rude awakening real soon. That guy loves no one as much as he loves himself.

She was so against being seen with me and anyone knowing we were together. But with Hiddleston, she has no problem being seen… _I see you_ . Although… I know she loved me. I know I broke her heart when I broke up with her. Maybe she thought she was doing me a favour and protecting me from the tabloids because sometimes they do get to me with how evil they can be. And the part about her being affected negatively by news of dating me? I never bought that. She’s a designer, no one cares whom you date in that industry. How many industrial designers can the average person on the street name? Definitely fewer than the Avengers they can name. So…   
  
I am aware that part of me is grieving. I loved Vanessa and she loved me in exactly the way I need to be loved. Spending time with her always felt like we were carving a pocket in time, an island of comfort and joy just for us.   
  
But that’s not where lasting happiness lives. I really, really hated having to let her go. Not only did she make me happy, she also made me feel alive for the first time in ages.   
  
Now… now I’m doing alright. I wish Ma would come around to what things are going to be like.

Last week, Amerie brought up the topic of kids. We were drinking wine on the back deck of my LA house when she said she can’t wait to start. She wants five kids! I was thinking more along the lines of three, like my sister. And she wants to start as soon as possible!   
  
I told her we’d start trying while on the honeymoon. I want all our kids to be born to married parents. And I intend to beat the odds and never abandon Amerie and the kids, although I know a lot of people will wait to see me fail, just because my parents got divorced.   
  
Then, later that evening, I realised why she had wanted to talk to me about kids and why she was in such a hurry.   
  
She went through my phone and found an archived photo album full of messages and pics with me and Vanessa. She must have seen how in love we were and that made her spring into action… but she doesn’t know that I CHOSE to be here with her so there’s no need for strategic talks. 

That night, more than on any previous ones, she pestered me into not wearing a condom, mentioning that she was already on birth control. I didn’t feel comfortable not wearing one because… I did say after the wedding, didn’t I?!  


***  
  
  
I wish i could say I’ve moved on, but I haven’t.   
  
Inside, I’m terrified. I keep waiting for things to look up, but they are not. I’m surrounded by people, but feel lonelier than ever. I’m getting married soon, and I feel I should be a bit more excited. It just feels like an item to check off the to do list.

Amerie is happy for the both of us. It’s like she was born for this - planning our wedding to the very last detail.  
  
I’m exhausted from the latest movie I am working on and juggling that with helping with the wedding preparations.   
  
The more it draws near, the more it seems like a bad idea, but now it would be douchey to walk away after I bought a ring and proposed.

And… the one thing I have not told anyone, and barely admit to myself, is that now sex is not fun. I’m having responsible, grown-up people sex. In bed, in the semi-darkness, in comfortable positions and where we both wrap ourselves in sheets afterwards or go to separate beds to sleep. Because Amerie is convinced the love dies sooner if we sleep under the same blanket. 

The reality of my life and how sad it is only hit me when my nephews asked me to watch The Addams Family Values with them. Carly said they could watch the movie if a grown-up was there so they don’t get scare at some of the special effects.   
But towards the end of the movie, there’s this scene where Fester is telling his new wife Debbie, “give me a kiss!” and she replies with “give me a 20!”   
  
Debbie is not doing so well by the end of the movie.   
  
I whipped out my phone before I even realised what I was doing and I called Tom. I really, really needed to talk to Vanessa.   
  
“Hey man, what’s so burning that you cannot wait until the morning? It’s bloody three at night.” Tom said at the other end.   
  
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realise it was that late over there… could you please put Vanessa on?!” I asked him, just on this side of begging.

“You seem to mistake me for Loki, I cannot possibly fetch her right now, she’s in Paris and I’m home. In London.”   
  
“Oh.” That gave me pause. “I thought…”   
  
“I know what you thought, you mean little man. If I was a bigger cunt, I’d tell you to fuck off and not bother her again. But this is her choice to make. So hang up and wait for my call back. If I don’t call, well… you’ll know what that means.”

So. Vanessa and he aren’t a couple? That’s odd. I mean I know she said she’s not into sex and dating but… that’s what you do when a relationship ends, right? You need to start another eventually!    
  
Now I was even more confused.

Five hours later, Tom called back, waking me up. It was only fair. He gave me Vanessa’s landline number.   
  
I dialled and waited.   
  
When she answered me, she sounded sleepy and she answered the phone in French, sounding mildly miffed.   
  
“Vanessa, it’s me. I’m sorry I woke you.”   
  
There was a long pause on her end. Then, a sigh.   
  
“It’s alright. I wasn’t really sleeping. How are you?”

After all this time, and all this heartbreak… she still cares for me.

“I’m fine...I just… the last time we spoke, I was a selfish dick and I hurt you unimaginably much. I want to ask for a chance to make it right and not have to lose you from my life completely.”  
  
The truth? I was scared shitless. Everyone, including myself, is expecting me to go through with a wedding and marry a woman who is willing to play the part of my wife for the perks - of which I am not one. I need a tiny bright spot in my life.

“Chris, you’re getting married in a few months. Congratulations, by the way. I don’t think this is a good idea. It cost me so much in terms of mental energy and strength to move on. You’re asking me to come back for Amerie’s scraps. I don’t want to be crueler than I need to be, but you can’t have your cake and eat it too. You’re getting exactly the life you wanted, it can’t be that bad.”   
  
But it is. And it might be too late for me to back out of it.

She went on: “I’ll of course always love you and want only the best for you, but the fact that best doesn’t include me is hard to live with, so I’d rather not have to live next to it and see it daily.”

This was all my doing.

Wait. Did she say she will always love me?! Holy shit.   
  
“Have a good day Chris. And good luck with the preparations for the big event.” She said and hung up.

I cry way too much lately for it to be happiness.  
  
  
***  
  
  
There was the conversation with Ma that I had on the day of the wedding rehearsal.   
  
She found me in the pantry, stuffing my face, stress-eating cannoli with my bare hand.   
  
“What are you doing here?” She asked, obviously on to me but also 100% done.  
  
“I’m self-medicating with complex sugars and empty carbs.” I answered.   
  
“Does the wedding stress you out?” Ma asked and, instead of shooing me out of the pantry, she came in and locked the room from the inside, coming to sit next to me.

“I’m scared of what I’m about to do. And I don’t know if it’s normal jitters or a gut feeling. This is so big and definitive... “  
  
“And you’re already experiencing buyer’s remorse.”   
  
“This is the right thing to do… why is everything in my body telling me to run?”   
  
“Well, what’s all this for? Have you given it any thought?”

“I want… to finally be at peace, to have a corner of the world all to myself, with a spouse and kids, like everyone else gets, so I can finally count as an adult. So I can be left alone.”   
  
Ma tilted her head and smiled.   
  
“Oh honey. Do you really care so much about what strangers have to say? They don’t live your life. You do. And you know, misery loves company. Maybe they want you to join them so you’re not a constant reminder of what they traded in and lost.”   
  
I looked at her trying to see if she was joking. I never thought I’d hear these words from Ma.

“I don’t really care… I just want to be happy. And I no longer know what it’s gonna take. I also… don’t wanna let you down.”  
  
“Baby…” She said and pulled me into a hug. “You could never let me down. All I want is for you to be happy. Regardless what that means.”   
  
“So… you don’t want me to get married soon and have many kids?”   
  
She actually scoffed at that.   
  
“I’m already a grandmother. And I never, ever expected my children to copy me in everything, to the letter. Having fun while parenting and ending up with good kids is a lottery and I was a huge winner. It’s not guaranteed. And it’s forever. Most people have to live with the terrible dread and the consequences of their shitty momentary decisions their entire lives.”   
  
“Are you saying that because you don’t like Amerie in particular or because this is all moving too fast?”

“I’m surprised she hasn’t had an oops pregnancy yet. That girl is so content spending your money and enjoying all your perks. Someone should hand her an Oscar. Or maybe she genuinely believes she’s entitled to everything because she’s willing to make you some kids. That’s… not how things work. That’s how you get lifelong misery and scarred kids who grow up feeling that mommy and daddy would have been better off not having had them.”   
  
I was speechless.   
  
My own Ma! But she had a point.   
  
“And because you seem so scared to choose your own happiness, I’m going to say these things so you can give yourself permission to choose what’s  best for you, not for me or for anyone else out there.” She said. “You don’t have to get married, Chris. You don’t have to have kids. You don’t have to have a wife running your life and spending your money to feel like you belong. You’re perfectly happy alone with Dodger, reading a book. If I were you, I would only let people into my life who give me that same feeling or even better.”

With those words, she got up and unlocked the pantry, taking the cannoli plate from my hands.   
  
“Make yourself a peppermint tea or you’ll be up at night, puking all the cream out.”  She said, reverting to the Ma I know and love.   
  
Later, Amerie came to find me under a tree in Ma’s garden.   
  
“Hey Chris, it would be really considerate if you participated in the rehearsal too. The groom is kinda essential to the whole thing.”   
  
I looked up at her from my spot and shrugged.   
  
“You’ll have to do without me this time.” I said.   
  
“But-”   
  
“Did I fucking stutter?”   
  
Her eyes narrowed and I saw her clench her fists, but she walked away.   
  
For now.

 


	10. I'm the firestarter, twisted instigator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris snatches and sets fire to some lace fronts.

**_Vanessa_ **

 

God I’m happy I came to Europe. The whole Tom thing remained to the level of a storm in a kettle. If we had been in the US, tabloids would have picked and enhanced the mere fact we were seen together, adding details that never happened and getting the shitball rolling.    
  
This way, the Daily Mail wrote like two pieces wondering who the hell I was and if I’m the new  _ girlf _ , but that was it. Haters came to lament how their fave is now taken but since there’s absolutely no dirt on me online, they had to chill after a week or two.    
  
Another perk was the fact that for the French firm that employs me, this was not an image scandal, they saw it as free promo and were quite excited.    
  
Things moved on uneventfully.    
  
However, privately, I was disturbed by Chris’ call.    
  
I not only had to deal with the pain of knowing that the only man I had genuinely and wholeheartedly loved was going to marry someone else, now I also knew he wasn’t fully happy doing so. And I wanted him to be happy more than anything else. If I hadn’t, I would have pleaded and bargained instead of leaving right away.    
  
People are so callous and intent on doing only the one thing that benefits them the most, regardless who else suffers. Maybe I should have played a long game of deception too.  I should have pretended to want kids and waited until Chris and I were married to suddenly develop a rare and rampant disease that made me infertile. Worst case scenario, Chris would have left me for a twenty-something girl eager to play house. Best case scenario, we would have adopted.

But now I’m alone and morose in Paris because I couldn’t for one second entertain the thought of lying to Chris and him being miserable just so I could get my way.    
  
And yes I am bitter too, because in all the movies, after they say “if you love someone you let them go”, the ending still finds you together. This is not the movies. 

I now live in a fancy penthouse apartment with an amazing view. I could have rented a house in the suburban area, but that would have only amplified my pain.

Tom confessed he is the same, he only started to look for a house outside the city for his dog to have a safe place to run and play. Because there’s always some motherfucker who takes it upon themselves to let you know that you don’t need that much space if you don’t have kids and this has happened for so long that now we hear it in our heads and it curbs any urge we might have to go after what we want because uh, someone with kids deserves it more. 

In my case it wasn’t that. Sure, I heard the judgy voice in my head. But I told it to fuck itself. I could afford to rent the house in Concord, so I did. I could afford to rent a house outside Paris too, I just don’t want to remind myself daily of the happiness I shared with Chris in that little house. I know I’m weird and I will find a dozen more ways to grieve my loss and still not be able to get over it.    
  
I couldn’t have cared less about the movie star, which is something even Chris had a hard time believing (but that’s because he himself doesn’t see how anyone could ever really like him for what’s left once you strip off the fame layer and the actor persona). But the shy, quiet and kind man, who made me feel loved with every touch and look, who wanted to see me laugh and who laughed with me? The thoughtful man who really got to know me and got naked with me in all the ways that matter? Him, I will miss forever.    
  
Friends and co-workers are starting to tell me to move on and date again… I guess few people are used to sitting with their uncomfortable feelings. And even if I’m holding on to my sadness and grief for too long, like they are the relics of a way happier time than now, it’s still better than moving on before I’m ready or interested in doing so. 

I’m currently surrounded by luxury, brands and clients who are throwing all sort of interesting projects and perks at me and while I love it all, I sometimes just wish I could play some old school LL Cool J and shake my ass around the garden while Chris watches and drools, bringing us spiked Kool-Aid in solo cups.    
  
In front of me there’s Veuve Clicquot in Bohemia crystal glasses and truffle mashed potatoes plated artfully by a chef, but to me nothing will taste like the Lasagna Assemble dish Chris made me this one time when he wanted to surprise me.

_Happy man's shirt_ indeed.

 

***    
**  
** _**Chris** _

  
  
It’s the day of my wedding and I did not sleep a single second last night.    
  
Amerie suggested we go to a spa and get pampered so we look out best for the event. I let her go with her mom and friends, as I didn’t feel like the extra anxiety of going there and having some strangers touch me, which for me is not relaxing but dials the stress and discomfort to the max.    
  
It’s a sunny day and before getting dressed to go to the church, I sat outside on the deck to drink my coffee.Which I had to spike generously, so much so that there was caffeine in the Chivas, not the other way around.    
  
I saw Carly’s boys play in the distance, they had water balloons and they were pressing them to shoot little streams of water at each other while running.    
  
When they got a little closer, my mind took its time to register that what they were playing with were not balloons, but condoms.    
  
I went to them and asked them who had given them the “balloons” to play with and assured them they were not in trouble. They said no one gave them the stuf, that they had found them in the nightstand upstairs and had come up with the idea to shoot water at each other because they had wanted to drop them on the adults from the top floor, but they had noticed the balloons had holes.    
  
For a few moments, I felt my airways close and my vision turned red. That was the bedroom I shared with Amerie and God only knew for how long I had been using tampered with condoms.    
  
“Are you mad at us, uncle Chris? We’ll stop. We were just getting bored, no one has time for us now.” The eldest said.    
  
“Nah, I’m not mad at you, bubba. Why don’t I go and get the key to the cellar and get out the Super Soakers so we can all play?” I said, feeling the last of the fucks I could give leaving my body.    
  
I spent my morning playing with the kids and Dodger, and went to get ready at the last moment. I had other stuff to arrange too and, while I was doing it, I felt so grateful Ma had given me a piece of her mind that time when I’d hidden in the pantry to eat my feelings.   
  
And boy, was I happy I hadn’t signed off on anything.    
  
God, I’ve been such a dickhead and an idiot. And if I hadn’t also been an old, cynical fucker, ‘d be at Amerie’s mercy.    
  
I was almost experiencing whiplash from the turn my feelings and thoughts did. First of all, they were in agreement with each other for the first time in a long time. And secondly, my gut was cheering me on, which is always a great sign.    
  
I put a lot of effort into looking like a million bucks for the wedding. Getting into that suit felt like putting on armour.    


I waited at the end of the aisle, looking jittery and hopping from one foot to the other.    
  
Amerie looked amazing in her bridal gown. She was beaming with happiness, most likely feeling like a princess in the huge custom designed dress. She had posted on Instagram how much it had cost and everyone was complimenting her.    
  
“If anyone knows a reason why this man and this woman should not be joined in marriage, they should speak now,” Father Anthony said.    
  
“Uh, that would be me.” I said, hearing a collective “what?!” rise from the audience.    
  
I turned to the people gathered there.    
  
“You are all gathered here to witness me join your ranks. You’re all happy that I’m finally conforming and doing what you’ve been brought up to believe is the only way to live. None of you care if I’m happy and assume that I must be, since I’m doing what’s expected of me. You’ll even stop mocking and bullying me if I do what you expect of me. Well, screw all this. I did say I would only get married when I found the right person, and Amerie,” I stopped turning to her, “you’re not that person. You’ve been lying and hiding things from me from day one, while expecting 100% honesty from me. I can’t trust someone who goes through my private things and who tries to force my hand. And I definitely can’t marry you.”   
  
“Wait so you’ve been sitting on this for how long? And you decided only now to come through and humiliate my sister?!” Amerie’s brother jumped up, all red in the face.    
  
“I have not been sitting on this. Why do you care? You’re here to party and to watch me get swallowed by the same misery that’s grinding you down. Well I may not be getting married but you guys are still free to party. It’s all been paid for.”    
  
“Chris get the fuck back here. You’re not going anywhere. I’m pregnant!” Amerie said in a low and commanding voice.    
  
I couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear. I knew I looked creepy, but I also didn’t care.    
  
“And you thought I’m as big an idiot as your brother painted me out to be. Someone with his heart on his sleeve and no shadow side.” I said, making no move to return by Amerie’s side. “Congratulations by the way. I do know I’m not the father though.”    
  
“What? Of course you’re… what are you talking about?”    
  
I was of course talking about the Vasalgel procedure I’d had when I was still with Vanessa. She had suggested it as an extra safety measure to control exactly when or if I become a father. Vanessa was open about having a Nexplanon implant and we had decided to skip condoms once our tests had come back clean and once I’d had the Vasalgel done.    
  
I’d only recently been to a follow-up check-up and things were 100% under control.   
  
I couldn’t tell if Amerie was bluffing to save face or if she was genuinely pregnant, which only meant she had cheated on me.    
  
But did I care?    
  
“I’ll leave you all to sort yourself out… and enjoy the party. I have somewhere I need to be.”    
  
I looked over to Ma and she was smiling. She nodded and made a heart sign with her hands, blowing me a kiss when I left.    
  
OK so I know that was over the top and LOADS of drama. Most of my relatives and coworkers will be butthurt for years. But that doesn’t matter. They wouldn’t have gotten the message any other way.    
  
These are all people who do not give a shit about me and whether I am happy or not. They just want their beliefs and their choices reaffirmed over and over all around them. And I’m not here for that.   
  
I got into my car and went to pick up Dodger and my suitcase, then booked it to the airport. 


	11. Sparklers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Reunion. We're nearing the end and Chris has finally got his heart and the rest of him in the right place.

 

**_Vanessa_ **   
  
This weekend, Chris gets married, and I was trying to be chill about it and not make a private scene. But the opportunity arose for me to take Friday and the next week off, so I did. I didn’t want to be at work while the coworkers gushed over the tabloid reports of Chris’ wedding. I didn’t want to be exposed to that pain. 

Friday went by easily, on Saturday I went shopping and on Sunday, I went for a walk, avoiding newsstands and any place that sold magazines.    
  
I was sitting on the lawn in front of the Tour Eiffel, eating some miniature cakes I had bought and watching the people walk by. This wasn’t so bad. I could take it.    
  
The moment I thought that, I also knew it wasn’t true. I wished my love would be enough for someone. Preferably someone I am attracted to and in love with as well… It just figures I of all people would play life on the most difficult level.   
  
I decided to head back home, and on the way I stopped at a bakery and at a patisserie, filling my arms with boxes of treats to get me through the coming days. 

I was crossing through Saint Honoré to get home and I was thinking of Chris and how by now he was a married man, probably already hard at “work” trying to make all the babies.    
  
It’s a business district, and there are mostly steel and glass buildings with works of art among them and, since it was Sunday, no one was there except maybe for a few workaholics or people meeting at the office to cheat on their spouses at home.    
  
It was as though my mind, having registered that no one was around to hear it, decided to detonate all its sadness, grief and every bad feeling it had sloshing around inside my skull.    
  
I climbed onto one of the massive stone heads cradled in huge stone hands and stood on it, looking to the grey skies above.    
  


The cry that tore out of my chest was so raw and painful; it felt as though it was ripping me apart, leaking out from the spaces between cells and severing the bonds that kept them together.    
  
**_CHRIS!_ **   
  
I knew it would bring nothing except a temporary emotional release. But I still let it out.    
  
I heard the sound reverberate through the deserted neighbourhood, bouncing back to me from the glass panels of the buildings.    
  
And then, deafening silence.    
  
“Vanessa? Vanessa I’m here!”    
  
I heard the high pitched scream and next, I saw Dodger run to me, Chris hot on his tracks.    
I was still on top of that statue and Dodger barked at me happily, looking proudly back to Chris. He had done a good job and had found me.    
  
I let myself slide off the statue and into Chris’ arms, holding on to him with arms and legs.    
  
“How…. Why are you here?!” I asked, watching him incredulously. He looked like shit and like he hadn’t slept in ages, his eyes were blood-shot and he was trembling.    
  
“I… I couldn’t do it. I wanna get married, but to someone I love. There wasn’t a day since you left that I haven’t missed you and regretted being a dick to you. Ma helped me see straight, before it was too late. Of all the people who claim to love me and be in my corner, only you ever treated me like you actually cared. I hope I’m not too late, Nessa. I only want you. Please? Please let me make it up to you?” 

I couldn’t say anything even if I wanted to, for now. All I could do was sob into Chris’ neck and shirt. He made no move to put me down on my own feet, holding me pressed to his front with an iron grip.    
  
“God I’m so glad I found you. I was starting to think you were gone for work and I’d have to roam Paris alone until you came back, if at all.” He continued.    
  
“What about kids?!” I asked. “I haven’t magically changed my mind on that.”    
  
“I know, and I’m not asking you to. I was a bag of dicktips. I love you. I don’t want you to change for me. And I know better than to walk out on you. There’s no one else out there but you.” 

“What happened? How come you’re here… wasn’t this supposed to be your first day as a married guy?” 

“It’s a long fuckin’ story. I basically told everyone to get the fuck off my dick.They didn’t take it too well.” Chris said, looking very pleased with himself.    
  
“Let’s go home. It’s going to rain and I have sweets in those bags.” I said, pointing to the packaged boxes from the bakery and the patisserie.    
  
Only then did he put me down and he took my hands in his.    
  
“Can you forgive me? I was so cold hearted and cruel to you.” He asked. “What can I do to start making up to you?” 

I reached up and caressed the side of his face, cradling his cheek in my palm.    
  
“I never stopped loving you. You’re the one for me, regardless if the Universe lets us be together or not.” I admitted. There was no point in playing games. Life is too short to keep each other waiting. 

Chris kissed my palm and put my hand on his chest, so I could feel his heart beating beneath. 

“You’re the one for me too. I’m sorry I took so long to see it.” He said.    
  


I leaned up and kissed him softly, lingering for a while, enjoying the soft, warm feel of his lips. Soon, I could taste salt as tears began to roll down his cheeks.    
  
I dug into my pockets for a kleenex pack and handed him one, then took his hand in mine and the sweets in the other and we walked to my place. 

“You need a shower, some dinner, a rubdown and a nice, full night’s sleep.” I decreed, once I saw him take his shoes and cap off and collapse on my sofa. “I’ll take care of Dodger too.” 

“I’m… I can’t believe we’re together again. And that you love me and forgave me.” Chris said, sniffling.    
  
Oh no. I had to go sit with him and make sure he didn’t get a panic attack once the events of the last 48 hours hit home.    
  
“Hey, hey… it’s all good. You’re in Paris, but this is my home. It’s your home too. You’re safe. You made it. You can rest now.” I said, running my fingers through the short hairs on his head. He had shaved it recently and now it was growing back.    
  
For him to travel half around the world on his wedding day meant that he had been under tremendous pressure to go through with the wedding, and he had faced the huge anxiety of being under scrutiny and upsetting his bride, their two families, their guests and everyone. I was now curious to see what the tabloids wrote. Because once news of his leaving his bride at the altar broke out, everyone and their dog would turn on Chris, painting him as the bad guy.    
  
“Amerie lied to me so many times… and I realised I had conditioned myself to see it as normal. But then I remembered you never lied to me for your own gain.” He said. “I could not. The pressure was huge, but I got so scared. That woman would have eaten my soul within a year. And I would have been stuck with her for life once kids had appeared.”    
  
“You were so strong. I’m proud of you.” I said and kissed his cheek. “Let’s eat and take a bath, then go to bed. You need to catch up on sleep.” 

  
  
****

 

**_Chris_ **   
  
Not once over the duration of my ride did I question or doubt my actions. I was on a mission, if not to get my love back, then at least to apologize to Vanessa face to face and give her the closure she deserves. 

I always feared I’d be too mousy to do something like what I just did back home in Mass. But I guess it became clear that the cost of just going along with everyone else’s wishes to keep the peace would have severe costs to my daily life in the future.    
  
It was my nephews playing with the condoms that had holes in them which shook me awake. I realised that Amerie neither loved me, nor cared for me - not one bit. She wanted to be the wife of a famous, rich and hot dude from Hollywood and it did not matter one bit to her who that dude was. I had been the perfect victim because her brother was friends with me and I was more trusting towards her since the beginning. She also found a great window of opportunity, when I was still confused and saddened from dumping Vanessa.    
  
There were other signs too, but I dismissed and ignored them all for the sake of maintaining the illusion. I was a moron. If it wasn’t for Ma… God help me.    
  
I need to call Ma and give her the news soon. Maybe Nessa and I can Skype with her together. 

It’s so surreal still. I have to pinch myself to know that this is not a dream or a fantasy.    
  
I don’t deserve Vanessa. Or, scratch that, I do deserve her, but I’m not worthy of her quick forgiveness. Anyone else would have kept me roasting on a slow fire for a long time before forgiving me.    
  
But the way I found her… was so intense and heartbreaking, her screaming my name to the heavens sounded so defeated and so full of grief. She thought she had lost me forever. I also didn’t believe her when she said I’m the one for her, no backups.    
  
I’m a dick because all this time I kept saying how I want a love like in the movies and with a Disney ending, but when it finally came along, I threw it out in disbelief. And Nessa was right when she told me that story of the happy man’s shirt. I still didn’t listen, like the idiot that I am.    
  
After I landed in Paris and finally left the airport, I went directly to her place. I only had the one small suitcase with me and Dodger’s things, my iPad and phone charger in a backpack. I was exhausted as fuck and I was hoping Tom didn’t give me some fake address and that she was home.    
  
She wasn’t home, but the address was correct, so I went out to look for a place with wi-fi so I could tell Ma where I was and to book a room at a hotel. But then I’d found her and it was such a movie moment. She’s so unafraid of letting emotions flow through her. I’m never not going to be in love with her and be awed at the sheer luck I had for her to fall in love with me.    
  
Back at her place, we talked, we cooked and we sat together, and again she comforted me and knew exactly what to say and how to hold me. She knew I was spiraling into a panic attack even before I did.    
  
I pulled her close to me and held her, hiding my face in her hair. Finally, I understood why Ma favoured Vanessa over every other girl I’ve been with. She’s just good for me. She brings out the good in me.

She got a haircut since the last time I saw her and she had a few tips dyed in nice vibrant colours. She looks so much cuter! And the hair at the back of her head is short and soft now, like puppy fur. Honestly I don’t think I’ve wanted to love on someone else as much as I want to cuddle and squeeze her.    
  
I asked her what made her forgive me so instantly and she smiled.    
  
“You exposed yourself to being harshly judged by everyone else, even family and friends who are close and who hurt the most. That is like, your least favourite thing in this life. You showed me you can stand up for what really matters to you. It was all the proof of love I needed.”  
  
So, in the end, it was still about me growing up in a way that counts a lot.    
  
I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her the hardest I’ve ever kissed anyone in my whole life.    
  
We were interrupted by our bellies, which growled at each other in hunger, and the ding of the oven that let us know food was ready.


	12. Phoenix

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris and Vanessa get on the same page about the things that matter the most to them.

__**Chris**  
  
  
I woke up warm, with my arms full and my lips resting against hot skin. I opened my eyes and saw that I was spooning Vanessa and my lips were on the side of her neck, where the short little hairs began.    
  
Her scent filled my senses and I moved in closer, my naked body flush against hers under the blanket. It was early in the morning, very early, still dark outside, and Dodger slept like the dead on the fuzzy carpet near the bed, his snores the only sound disturbing the otherwise perfect silence. 

“Did you take a hairbrush to bed or are you happy to see me first thing in the morning?” She asked sleepily, turning around and tickling me below my lower lip. “And who do I have to blow to get the stache to make a brief comeback around here?” 

I felt tears prickle my eyes. There it was. Our normal. 

I pulled her close, with one hand on her lower belly, nestling my cock between her buttcheeks and rolling onto my back. 

“Look, I’m only customer service, but I can take it to the higher ups… they can decide to bring the mustache back for your convenience.” I purred up into her ear.    


“You… you do that Chris,” I heard her say, trying hard to concentrate. For some reason, I always had a big power over her, where the smallest touch would bring her such huge pleasure. But I liked that. I wanted nothing but to show her and make her feel how much I loved her with every look, word and touch. 

And here’s the thing: she has the same power over me, despite my almost lifelong training to delay coming. But when we’re together, I know on such a deep level that I will never be left wanting and having to delay my own pleasure to let her have hers, that I have no problem coming several times. She taught me all sorts of techniques and we tried a lot of stuff together… some of it gave us a laugh, some of it a stiff back and some… well some was fully worth the awkward learning phase. 

She’s lost so much weight since the last time I held her. I hate to think it was because of me and the heartache I caused her. Hopefully she feels good and likes being in her skin at this size too and if not, I’ll help her in any way I can. I’ll show her that to me she is a goddess no matter her size. 

I switched us so we were lying down face to face and pulled her upper leg over my hip, guiding myself into her slowly.    
  
She showed me how much she enjoyed that when her eyes closed and she smiled, letting out a spoiled and happy little sound. Her hands began to stroke over my features, neck and chest, making me start to feel like I was melting into her.    
  
I’m not worthy, I know I’m not, by any means. I’ve treated her abysmally and then came crawling back looking for a fix-it for my own mistakes; but she deemed me worthy and now I know it in my bones how cosmically lucky I am.    


Her walls wrapped tightly around my cock, soft, hot and welcoming like I remembered, squeezing down on me as I moved in and out. I angled my motions in such a way as to hit the spots she had told me felt best to her, and moved deliberately to give her all the pleasure I could. It sounds mechanical and planned, but it wasn’t - of all the women I’ve ever been with, only Vanessa has shared with me the entire instruction manual to her body without withholding any pages. In the short but amazing time we had together as a couple, I gave myself a lot of opportunities to practice. 

And to be a bit of a dick, I’ll add I never wanted to see anyone else be this happy at my hands (or, er, other body parts). I guess that alone should have tipped me off long ago to the fact that she is the one. 

I slid my palm down the side of her face, caressing her with all the love I could pour into the gesture. Kissing her slowly and deeply, putting my lips to good use in ways she’d taught me she loved, I let my hand slide over the soft lines of her jaw and neck, down over her collarbones and to her breast-

-hold up. What?    
  
I looked down at what my hand encountered - my Vanessa got her nipples pierced? In one nanosecond, all of my past judgments about piercings flew out the window and dissolved for good. I felt myself actually harden further inside her as my fingers played with the circular, sun-shaped jewels.    
  
“Hmmm, I see you like that I bought my titties jewels.” Vanessa said, amused, squeezing down hard on my cock, then letting go. Slowly.    
  
I leaned down and dragged my lips from her neck down to her breast, closing them around her nipple and the jewel, stopping before I got any real grip on them.    
  
The moan she rewarded me with made white hot pleasure shoot down my spine all the way to places I didn’t even know I had. 

“Feels good?” I asked, not very brightly.    
  
“Very. It’s dialed up to 11 and near bursting off the scale.” She said. “You’ll see.”    
  
I took that as encouragement and began playing with the jewel and carefully stroked my tongue over one nipple, then the other, sucking gently next.   
  
“Chris. I’m coming. Don’t you dare stop.” She warned me and I somehow knew she meant her titties. 

One hand on one breast, my teeth carefully nibbling on the other, I felt her let go and start to pulse and squeeze around me. It all got hotter and more slippery, and I felt my orgasm being milked out of me, not as a rushed push over an edge, but as a slow coaxing up a mountain. It felt endless.    
  
She however, kept coming long after I was done and trembled like a leaf in my arms, her face contorted in an expression of intense bliss. 

“Fuck… stop… Chris… I’m  good.” She said, wrapping a hand around the one I had on her breast. “It gets scary after a while, because instead of ebbing out, it gets stronger…”   
  


I slipped out of her and pulled her close, lying down and draping her body on top of mine, kissing her and running my fingers through her hair and down her back and butt. 

“That was amazing, Nessa.” I whispered. “How’d you find out?”    
  
“Well… just because I didn’t want any other guy didn’t mean I stopped playing with myself.”    
  
She told me how she had been to an industrial design awards show and had gotten a goodie bag with some new things from the firms attending. Among those things, a little kit with sex toys designed by women, for women. 

Back home, Vanessa tried some of the stuff.   
  
“Imagine me on my back, with my legs in the air, bent like a pretzel, fucking myself with two fingers on one hand, stroking my clit with the other and with the chain from a pair of nipple clamps between my teeth. I came so hard I blacked out for a bit. And then I came some more. And it felt different. I only stopped because the clamps slipped off.”   
  
My cock gave a sudden, hard twitch at her words. As a guy, you don’t get to hear about what girls do with themselves when you’re not there. I don’t even think people talk about it unless it’s in an embellished, bullshit way for taunting their SOs during kink scenes.    
  
Suddenly I was sweating profusely again and while it would be a moment before I could get hard again, my mind conjured up this HD movie of what Vanessa had described.    
  
“Of course, right after that I lost a toy inside myself and cried from panic.” She said, pulling me out of my daydream. 

“What? Are you alright? How did that work out?” I asked, holding back from facepalming. This is Vanessa in a nutshell. Goddess and derp rolled into one.    
  
“I cried for you actually. I thought that you would know how to calm me and help me with my situation.”   
  
“I probably would have panicked even more and called 911. Which would have been a huge mistake, given the circumstances.”    
  
“Well, it was a bullet vibrator and… I ignored the warning on the package that said clearly not to put it in a butt. But I knew better. Not. Anyway, I was alone so I googled what to do and sorted myself.”    
  
“How did you manage?” I asked, feeling actually scared because a bullet vibe is small and it can get literally lost in there and what if it breaks and then the battery leaks cadmium or some other toxic shit inside you?!   
  
“Well there’s a yoga mudra I found and I was able to get it out with little fuss… I learned my lesson.”    
  
“From now on, no more ignoring labels. And always having a friend present when you put things in your butt. Preferably me.” I said.    
  
Can you believe I was about to marry a whole ass other person?    
  
Later, once we did manage to get out of bed and made coffee, I opened up Vanessa’s robe when she walked past me and got her to straddle one of my thighs. I started telling her how quickly I get all hot and worked up when she’s around and how I want to give her everything she wants. Starting with another yummy, minimum effort orgasm,with my hands on her butt, kneading her cheeks and sliding her up and down my thigh as we kissed.   
  
Like, she never made it a secret that dicks aren’t even in the top three things that feel the best to her. Which may seem insulting at first, if you’re a self-absorbed douche. But that just means it’s easy to learn how to pleasure her and establish yourself as the definitive God of Sex.    
  
  
****   
  
_**Vanessa** _

 

I was so delighted to have Chris back. He apparently realised what he was about to throw away so he made it clear he meant to make it up to me.   
  
Good.    
  
Later, around two-ish in the afternoon, we were having lunch at a bistro, watching people walk past our window.

That’s when we had the conversation. And Chris dismantled all of my worries.

“Chris I know that when it’s just the two of us, paradise is very nice like LL Cool J said.” I began. “But once you go out in the world… even to your family and friends. They will drag you. They will come for blood. I mean, you went against them all. You broke a social pact. Not a fair one, it’s true, but they feel betrayed.”   
  
“Yeah, I don’t care. I saw who really loves me for me and who doesn’t.”   
  
“And then there’s the other thing. I won’t change my mind about That Thing. No matter how much love and happiness we share.”   
  
“I think I changed my mind… in fact I am sure I no longer think it’s vital for me to have a bunch of mini-mes to feel like a dad. I had a conversation with Ma… it was eye- and heart-opening. And it’s not worth having kids with someone you don’t love, if you have a choice in the matter. Even if parenting doesn’t turn to be for us, even if we’re stuck being the funky aunt and uncle with the many dogs - I want to be with you. Back at your apartment, I had this strange realization. Usually when I travel I get huge anxiety and can’t sleep well in foreign sheets. I’d rather sleep dressed, leaning against a doorframe and scratch my myriad uncomfortable itches all night. But I didn’t have that this time around. Because you’re my home. I feel safe when I’m with you. Lighter. Do you know what I’m saying?”    
  
I nodded. I felt the same way about him.   
  
“So, how’s this going to play out? I can be like Persephone and spend time in the States with you and come here when you’re super busy with work?”    
  
“We both travel. I’m not afraid anymore. I wanna do it, Vanessa. I wanna show up and be that guy who doesn’t require you to leave everything you built for yourself behind. I would propose to you right now, but I don’t have a ring.”    
  
I smiled from ear to ear.    
  
“You forget what I do for a living. I don’t need a diamond ring - you know how I feel about those. I’m gonna design us matching wedding bands and have them ready at the date of your convenience.”   
  
“Let’s book the Sacre Coeur and get married here!” He blurted out. I could see the wheels turning in his mind.    
  
“Let’s not. I’d rather wait till we return to the States. Lisa needs to be a part of this. And everyone else who loves you and wants to be there for you should have the chance to show up.” I said.    
  
Chris started to cry softly, holding my hand between his and kissing my fingers over and over.    


What? Everybody knows there’s no more valuable asset in a marriage than a mother in law who is in your corner. And Lisa already likes me, I’m not throwing that away.   
  
Who was I kidding? I was crying too.

 


	13. The Happy Man's Mustache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is the end, my fuzzy friends! Chris and Vanessa tie the loose ends.

**_Chris_ **   
  
I have made Vanessa cry for hours. And I’m not sorry.   
  
But they were surprised and delighted tears. Because, with the help of my lawyers, my real estate agent best friend and an interior decoration firm, I bought back and re-furnished her house. It’s going to be our house now.    
  
I have never seen anyone more grateful and happier to receive a surprise. Perhaps Ma, when I bought my childhood home so she could continue to live in it after the hard times following her divorce. But Vanessa is right up there with her.    
  
It feels so good inside to be able to make her this happy.    
  
She did not let go of my hand for the whole duration of the tour. I had everything fixed, renewed, repainted. She was crying all through my reveals and explanations and she kept coming close to kiss me.   
  
I know she could afford to have made the micro-repairs herself when she lived here. I know she would have afforded buying the place herself, but she was prudent not to, because look what I did to her.    
  
I wanted to buy the house, as an additional gesture of showing her I want nothing else but to be with her and I’m ready to fully commit to that.    
  
Turns out, I’m the more romantic and idealistic half of our couple. She would have been all too happy just sharing her life with me, no written guarantees. But then, when I said I’d rather get married, she got this soft look in her eyes that she only ever gives me and was on board at once, then cited the many benefits and privileges we would have when married.    
  
For a while, I grew my mustache back. A more stylish and less douchey version, but she was happy about it nonetheless and showed me profusely how to get the most out of having nose bangs.   
Settling back into the rhythm of life back in Mass with Vanessa was bliss while we were home, and shitty as hell when we went out.    
  
Man everyone was such a dick.    
  
Mind you, they stayed at the party and ate and drank. Amerie walked away with the two million dollar ring and isn’t planning to give it back.    
  
She sold the story of what an evil douchebag I was to her to every fucking tabloid out there.  A few of my friends and many of my Marvel cast mates now hate my guts. People write huge essays online on what a shitty feminist I am. They go digging for dirt on Vanessa but when they find nothing, they start adding from their own festering minds.    
  
Giulio, Amerie’s brother, showed up at my Ma’s house, looking for a fight and wanting to end me for breaking his sister’s heart.  
  
The only thing I broke were her plans of digging her claws in me and sucking me dry the way Vanessa’s cats eat flies.    
  
Oh. That’s a thing too. She adopted all the black cats, four in number, from the local shelter and while I’m still learning cat manners, her little meowy coven is a source of endless entertainment when we’re at home. 

Dodger loves the cats and they love him. He feels like the special son. The abyss-coloured friends love having a big brother.    
  
Anyway, back to Giulio.    
  
So he came to Ma’s place to pick a fight and I was ready. I had taken off my watch and sunglasses already when Vanessa approached and got between us.    
  
“Hey Giulio,” she said. “I’m Vanessa. I know you hate me and you feel your buddy Chris betrayed your friendship. Now here’s the thing. Your sister is a very determined and smart woman. She’s also drop-dead gorgeous. I think you have to see that Chris did you both a big favour. I mean, would it have been better if Chris had gone through with the wedding and then had neglected his wife or shut himself away from her? Because this is what happens when people make choices they regret. It taints the way they live and treat others even when they make their best efforts to show up. No woman deserves any less than the full one hundred per cent from her husband. Amerie now has the chance, time and money to find the man who enthusiastically worships the ground she steps on every minute and every hour.”    
  
Giulio agreed.   
  
But he still took a swing at me, managing to punch Vanessa in the shoulder in the process.    
  
Vanessa, like a cat, physically puffed herself up and backhanded him SO FUCKING HARD he stumbled backwards a few steps and fell on his ass.    
  
“We could have been friends, Giulio. It would have been nice and civil, like grown-ups!”  She hissed and chased him off Ma’s land. It looked like those videos where you see cats chase bears and mountain lions out of their gardens.    
  
Because if there’s anything Italian men count as kryptonite, it’s Italian women. And Vanessa self-identifies as Eurotrash, which she explained to me in her case means not being embarrassed by drinking men under the table and running into fights not away from them. 

When I looked behind me, I saw Scott and Carly scoff in disapprovement while Ma and Shanna were laughing under their breath and clapping. Walking past them, Ma fist bumped me.   
  
She also hugged Vanessa when she came running back and took her to the pantry. My fiancée came back from there with a big sliver of Parmesan in one hand and a cannoli in the other, eating from both at once. 

 

***   
  


**_Vanessa_ **   
  
Our wedding was so unpretentious and cute. We had a big cake and the reception was in the back of Lisa’s house, in her garden.    
  
Chris looked stunning in an off-white Ferragamo suit, tailored to fit.    
  
My dress cost a whopping total of $200, bought online from Zalando. It was gorgeous and I made it pop.    
  
Our rings however? Platinum-vanadium alloy, with moonstone crystal details and a small faceted actual stone from the Moon, encased in synthetic diamond. Incredibly hard to make and unique, made after my custom design. When Chris put his on, I felt shit got real. He looked like a king.

Chris’ friends who were still in his corner did come to the wedding. So did my family. In the end, we were forty people in total, but it was such a cute party. Everyone cried and laughed and we all danced together and jumped into the huge bouncy castle we rented for the event until late at night.    


People left us alone after the wedding, presumably assuming we were busy fucking 24/7. That too, at least some of the time. But I had the idea of learning an acro yoga routine with Chris to strengthen our bond and communication.    
  
Acro yoga takes strength and incredible mind-to-mind coordination. It also requires each partner to really be there for the other. I for one found it very fitting and pretty difficult. Also, it was sort of a wedding present for me, because nothing beats watching Chris’ muscles flex in motion while he works out in shorts. 

We practiced throughout our honeymoon, even as we traveled to Disney World first, then to Vegas, then to Paris and then to Cannes, for the festival - where Chris’ short film that he made all alone with my technical help here and there is being shown in the competition.    
  
While chilling on the beach in Cannes, Chris was scared that the paps would notice me not wearing any bikini top.    
  
I had white bikini bottoms and Fenty Beauty’s Body Lava on.    
  
“They’re just titties, relax. Everyone has a pair. Besides they can’t sell the pics if there’s nudity.” I said, winking. 

I also suggested that we rehearse our acro yoga routine on the beach as the sun was setting. It was the perfect moment. I even set my camera on a small tripod nearby to capture the performance.    
  
We moved so fluidly and so confidently with each other, like fish following an invisible current in the ocean. While we were in motion, the world around us ceased to exist. Then, at the end, as I slowly lowered myself on top of Chris, he wrapped his arms around me and covered my face in kisses.  It felt so right.    
  
Of course by the time we were back at the hotel, someone else who had filmed us had put the video online and it was spreading like wildfire.    
  
“Looks like we have to announce we got married.” I said. 

“No need, I think,” Chris said, showing me the headlines. Everyone had figured out. 

 

***   
  
I’m aware of the fact that our marriage is an investment  that needs to be contributed to daily. The world will always try to take Chris from me by throwing horrible platitudes at him. I know them all.    
  
_ “You’re not really related to each other unless you have a kid of your own.”  _ __  
__  
_ “You’re not really a family without a kid.” _ __  
__  
_ “She’s robbing you of a chance to experience real love.”  _ __  
__  
_ “You are rich and powerful, you deserve everything available out there! Why deny yourself!” _ __  
__  
__ “It’s not the same if they’re not yours!”  
__  
I know these things way too well because people whisper them even in my presence. In interviews. On red carpets.    
  
And I see Chris’s eyes glaze over as he bullshits his way far from the topic. Sometimes, he gets up and leaves altogether.    
  
He always comes back to me. We are happy. We help so many more children with the charity work we do; work we would not be able to put in if we had a newborn to look after.    
  
The more the world at large presses us, the closer together we become.    
  
I know we will have kids when we’re ready for it. In fact, we’re considering it and started fantasizing about it during our long garden moments, when we lie down in the grass holding hands and talk about the future.    
  
Sometimes, one of the wives of Chris’ friends tries to prod at me with questions that usually circle around to one:   
  
“What will you do if he still leaves you once you adopt?”    
  
And I know I’ll be alright if that happens. I’ll have known love and I’ll have lived a great few years with someone who loves me here and now. As a Zen proverb says, the past is dead and the future isn’t here yet.    
  
With time, Chris realized that he doesn’t owe the world his genetic heritage and that the preoccupation everyone has with the fate of his seed says a lot about what they lack and nothing about him. 

After all, he got a wife, a best friend, a lifetime of love and laughter - all for the low price of a now-and-then mustache.  
  
  
~The End~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for coming with me on this wild ride. 
> 
> Thank you to those who have read as I added, caught up, binge-read, left kudos and comments. 
> 
> I wish to leave you with something happy and fun.  
> For your consideration, the song "Moustache" by French group Twin Twin. 
> 
> https://youtu.be/vjkqciwP034


End file.
